Ink And Parchment
by The Goddess Of Art
Summary: Odin and Thor abandoned Loki. Erik and Jane left Darcy. Two souls, lost and forgotten found each other in the vast gloomy forests of the Nine Realms. Joined by accident, bonded by need and changed by love. What happens when Loki lands on Midgard, angry and craving revenge only to find a mortal woman, Darcy Lewis, alone and cold?
1. Chapter 1

**AN: This idea came to me one rainy evening, after watching the Avengers. **

**Tom Hiddleston makes my life brighter, while Loki makes it comfortably darker. I hope you'll enjoy this story.**

**The story starts at the end of Thor and focuses on the gap between Thor and Avengers. Later on, it will continue on the Avengers. While I wrote this chapter I listened to following songs that really set the mood for me: **

**Elder Scrolls V-Skyrim "Son Of The Nord" **

**Hiatus & Shura - Fortune's Fool (Clubroot remix) Dubstep**

**Give it a listen if you'd like, while you read the story. And also, tell me what you think in the reviews! Much love!**

**Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Marvel.**

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_**villain [ˈvɪlən] n.**_

_**1.**__ A wicked or malevolent person_  
_**2.**__ (In a novel, play, film, etc.) the main evil character and antagonist to the hero_  
_**3.**__ Often jocular a mischievous person; rogue_  
_**4.**__ Obsolete an uncouth person; boor_

_**he·ro (hɪr.oʊ) n.**_

_**1. **__In mythology and legend, a man, often of divine ancestry, who is endowed with great courage and strength, celebrated for his bold exploits, and favored by the gods_  
_**2. **__A person noted for feats of courage or nobility of purpose, especially one who has risked or sacrificed his or her life: soldiers and nurses who were heroes in an unpopular war_  
_**3. **__A person noted for special achievement in a particular field_  
_**4. **__The principal male character in a novel, poem, or dramatic presentation_

* * *

Freedom. Falling. Fear. Fury. These indescribable sensations pulsed through him.

It seemed only second ago he held onto his _father's_ staff. Or was it centuries away? He did not know, but his hand still tingled with magic.

His hair whipped like ravens wing caught in the stormy wind. Dark armor was tight around his heavy body that fell like a lost meteor. His emerald cape billowed wildly, and if it had a voice - it would be screaming. Stars, nebula, black holes, planets, constellations – the wonders of the universe, the pride of the Nine realms were nothing but a blur as he fell.

He did not know where he was falling. He did not know when the final impact will occur. Or even more frightening, will it occur? Was he simply going to plummet into unknown until Ragnarök?

All his wishes, all his thoughts, his entire existence for a moment seemed so far away - so painfully far from and out of his reach. And just then – he realized how small and meaningless he was in this universe. Malice surged inside him… Oh he will be heard, he will be seen and he will be important once again.

His mind was blank, eyes closed tightly. Underneath his lids, tears were afraid to fall, for they would not touch his cheeks – they would plummet into some other strange direction, snatched by the vast, unfamiliar places. He couldn't move his fingers, couldn't open his mouth to scream.

He was snatched by the hand of the space, rational, cold, uninviting. Just like Odin.

Asgard was gone – he knew it.

He did not need anyone's pity or compassion. All he wanted was revenge. He _needed_ it, like he needed to feel himself standing on solid ground once again.

_Is there no end to this misery? _He thought in anguish as he plummeted down, his downfall followed by the blinding electric cold colors – blue, green, black and silver - far unlike those warm, earthy tones that followed Thor's and Odin's journeys between realms.

These were the colors of a Jötunn - cold, icy, freezing shades thrown over the canvas of the universe.

...

'_Jane! _You can't do this!' Darcy yelled to closed doors, flapping her hands hopelessly, feeling like an idiot.

'I have to Darcy.' Came Jane's ever calm and rational reply, muffled by the closed doors. It irritated Darcy further.

It has been two months since they last saw Thor. The moment he and his friends flew to the sky was the last contact Asgard had with Earth, or as Thor called it – Midgard. And each day that passed was more and more difficult. Eric and Darcy devoted all of their time to Jane, and all the three were constantly working on getting Thor back. All of it started as a science experiment – for the common good, for the mankind – their goal was clear - discover how to contact, travel and finally reach Asgard, and the rest of the Nine realms.

But somewhere along the way, Darcy realized they did it for Jane.

For years she's been Jane's co-worker, surrounded with quite cold, rational minds that seemed far above her own. Emotions were never involved, and there was no place for feelings when it came to science. Those who were cold and calculated made it, while those who gave into their emotions often fell apart under the pressure.

When Jane offered Darcy to become her co-worker a few years ago, Darcy was fresh out of college, and eager to prove herself. At first she played a major role in all of it, her knowledge of different cultures and a few languages she spoke fluently came in handy and was very helpful, so naturally, she felt extremely proud. But as the time flew - she felt more and more like a housekeeper or a secretary, rather than their colleague. She wanted more. The two of them were building such machines, breathtaking computing systems and soft-wares, equipment which even Tony Stark himself would admire, while Darcy made coffee and bought them doughnuts.

As the days flew by, Darcy Lewis felt left out.

At first - none of it bothered her – she had a job, and a quite good one at that – helping two amazing scientists was a great opportunity, because who knew what they would discover along the way? But, now, as the days stretched endlessly, fear gripped Darcy as she sensed the grains of sand of her youth's hourglass disappearing.

She left her home, her family and friends, and came all the way to Puente Antiguo. Darcy Lewis deserted everything to find herself in this godforsaken small town somewhere in the New Mexico desert, where nights were cold and lonely, and time was slipping through her fingers with a frightening velocity.

_Where am I going to go now?_

'_You are ungrateful._' Darcy said to the door, tears collecting under her glasses, fogging them a bit, and she snatched them off the bridge of her nose in anger, wiping her eyes furiously with the sleeve of her fleece sweatshirt.

'Oh _grow up_, Darcy.' another rude reply.

'You call _me_ childish and, here I am, talking to closed doors!' Darcy said loudly enough for Jane to hear her. There was a short silence, and then Jane walked out.

'What?' she stood at the doorway in her coat, her bags packed, her equipment waiting in front of their temporary glass home.

'You heard me.'

_'I_ am ungrateful?' Jane laughed bitterly '_I_ was the one who gave you this job!'

'Yes, Jane! I never said I was not thankful for it! But you're the one leaving me now! You and Erik!'

'We have to go, Darcy.' Jane pushed next to her, and went to the working desk to collect more of her things, showing them quickly in her rucksack. 'Look, I'm sorry, you can't come with us.' Jane shook her head 'It was hard for me to convince SHIELD even to let Erik come with me!'

'But you could've told me earlier, you could've given me time!' She pulled the sleeves over her palms in frustration 'What am I going to do now, all alone in this place?' she flapped her hands. 'Wait for you two to come back!?'

'Don't be a child, Darcy.' Jane said lowly, zipping up her rucksack 'You are old enough to take care of yourself. Just… go home.'

'Okay, that is _enough_!' Darcy yelled.

Jane whipped around, confusion written all over her pretty face.

'What is your problem!?' Jane exclaimed.

'All this time, I've been nothing more than a- You can't boss me around like that-' Darcy stuttered, falling over her unfinished sentences 'I have plans of my own, you know! Just - _oh forget it_!'

'Well.' Jane breathed 'That clears everything up.' She crossed her arms over her chest, looking around. 'When you _cool off_ and pack your bags, just lock everything up and shut all the blinds on windows, _you know_, just in case.'

Darcy looked at Jane in disbelief, her eyes watering, her fingers crushing themselves inside her fists. Everything she tried to say flew out of her lips in a mess, unnoticed by Jane, all the pent up anger unable to find its release when she talked to Jane Foster.

Darcy straightened up, and lifted her chin, her voice cutting the air with a razor sharp edge.

'_Bye, Jane._'

With that said Darcy turned on her heel, and slammed the doors of her room to Jane's shocked face.

That would be the last time she saw Jane for a long time.

...

Three hours passed. The night was slowly begging to fall, the first stars sparkled in the sky that resembled an icy glass of freshly poured Coca-Cola. She lay on her bed, the headlights of the black armored cars and the banging of the heavy car doors left her in the lone desert. Erik, Jane and the rest of the SHIELD agents left, not even saying goodbye.

She was deserted, in this big house, in this vast land, on this lonely planet where everything seemed so difficult.

She felt tears gathering in the corners of her brown eyes, and she let them fall silently. She did not sob, she did nothing – she just lay there, closing her eyes for a moment, breathing deeply through her nose.

This was the first time after so long, Darcy thought the house was completely silent – there was no hum of the computers, no talking, no scribbling, no hurrying, no panic. Just Darcy and the quiet that surrounded her.

Until-

A swishing sound woke her for her small nap, like a distant whip. And upon the light green wall of her room she saw lights. Darcy sat up quickly. Her skinny jeans were very uncomfortable around her round legs as she quickly put on her boots.

_Maybe Jane and Erik returned!_ This was her first thought, and hope fluttered inside her.

She went to the mirror in the hall, and looked herself closely. She had bags of tiredness under her eyes, and the glasses made them look even bigger. _I look like a cartoon character..._ Darcy smirked at her own reflection.

Quickly, she brushed her dark hair with her fingers, and straightened her jumper. She walked out, in front of the house, shivering from the gush of cold wind. But there were no cars, no people.

Just she, the white van and the eerily silent Puente Antiguo.

She was about to turn around and head back to the house, when she saw the light again. It came bursting from the skies, and Darcy lifted her head up in fright, squinting, her full lips parted in awe. It fluttered and then disappeared.

Was she seeing things?

For a few seconds it seemed everything stopped moving. Then a beam of green, blue, silver and black surged from the skies above and directly into the ground, far away in the desert. It looked like a vein of dark power, so frightening and beautiful at the same time. Earth shook, rumbling.

Darcy's heart skipped a beat, and she hurried to the car – trying with all her might to remember the place where Thor had landed all those months ago – for it seemed this impact was in the exact same place.

With shaky fingers she started the car, not knowing what to do.

_Maybe it's Thor! Then Jane and Erik will return! _

Darcy drove like a lunatic, speeding up every few seconds.

Among her surging hope and excitement, another question presented itself, sneering in the dark corner of her mind - _But, what if it's not Thor?_

Darcy's smile fell.

It was too late for that – she was already half way there. The closer she drove to the impact spot, the cloud of dust and sand became bigger. It was almost impossible to drive through it, so she slowed down. The van moved very slowly until she stopped. She was not sure where she was anymore.

_If Jane and Erik were here, they would know what to do!_

Darcy got outside the van, coughing when the dusty air reached her lungs. Quickly, she put her hand over her mouth, squinting to see something, anything.

'Hello?' she called. Her voice fluttered. '_Hello!?_'

_Nothing._

Leaning her back to the van, she decided to wait until the dust settled down, as well as the rapid beating of her racing heart. After a few moments, the air around was clearer and she heard rustling to her right. Hurriedly, she reached inside the van and on the passenger seat where her taser lay _innocently_.

Clicking it, she aimed it in front of her and moved on shaky feet.

A thin beam of red laser pierced through the thick dust, searching for the target '_Is anybody there?_' her voice fluttered, and she cursed herself for showing fear.

She thought she heard something.

A grunt of pain.

_What the hell?_

Another clenched, guttural moan of anguish. Darcy lowered the taser and pocketed it.

One step.

Two steps.

The dust lifted, and a few feet in front of her – she saw him.

A man lay there, sprawled across the desert floor. Wreathing, curling his limbs like a wounded animal. In the dark, she could not see him well, but it seemed he wore a dark armor and some sort of cape. It was green.

'_Who- What-?_' she began clumsily, stuttering. A cry of pain interrupted her. The man held his broad armored chest, his face hidden the entire time by the messy tresses of ink black hair.

Darcy stepped closer to his writhing form, and shakily got to her knees to help him. She squinted in sadness, unable to watch a person in so much pain, unable to help them.

Quickly she took off her glasses and pocketed them.

'Here- let me-' she reached to touch his forearm that clenched itself over his abdomen. The moment her fingers brushed his amour clad forearm, he screamed.

'Don't you _dare_ touch me, creature!' he gritted through his teeth in rage and pain.

'I'm just trying to help you.' Darcy said calmly, although her heart hammered violently against her ribcage.

'Did you hear me _ask for it_' he gritted in pain '_by some chance_?'

The sarcasm in his deep growling voice stung Darcy.

'For the love of Odin!' he cried once more, throwing his head back in wrenching pain, the veins in his neck visible and pulsing. And for the first time, his face was fully revealed to Darcy. His watery dark eyes glared at the universe above him, his teeth clenched. But he did not let tears fall.

_Odin?__ Another Asgardian._

'Please, let me help you.' Darcy's voice fluttered. Watching the torture he was in was not working well with her. She felt a knot inside her stomach.

The man only rolled on his side, trying to stand up. 'I said I don't need it!' he growled. Then he collapsed in more pain, for trying to move too quickly. He panted, his brow coated in sheen of sweat.

'Oh, so you want me to leave you here? You want to die alone?' Darcy tried with all her might to sound brave and sure, only her voice constantly betrayed her.

'I can't die, stupid girl.' He snarled as he held his side, lying on his back helplessly.

'What?' she stared at him.

He did not answer.

'Oh never mind. I'm helping you – _whether you like it or not_.'

'How dare you speak to me like that!' He screamed together with the pain, his dark hair whipping around his face.

Darcy stood up, ran to the van and drove it to where he lay. Then Darcy tried to grasp his shoulders. He was very heavy, and she had no idea how she'll be able to carry him to the back of the van.

The man went to slap her hands away, his venom seeping out and he looked like a snake ready to bite her. '_You insolent little-_'

'Please don't freak out, I'm trying to help you.' She said calmly 'You fell on Earth. I won't hurt you, I promise. Trust me, _please_.'

'If my body wasn't broken, you would lose your hands _and_ your tongue, _mortal_.' He snarled deeply, spitting the words violently.

'Yeah, _charming_.' Darcy rolled her eyes, and when she was sure she had a firm hold on him she tried to pull him up. The man howled in pain like somebody was breaking every bone in his body. She managed to drag him towards the back seat, and push him in.

'You shall regret this, mortal!' He growled, face contorted in wrath.

'Yeah, I know, I know, you don't have to tell me.' Darcy whispered urgently, slamming the door.

Before she jumped into the driver's seat, Darcy saw something glinting in the dark sand – it was a helmet - a magnificent golden horned helmet.

With shaky fingers, she took it, placed it on the passenger seat and drove home, with only one thing dancing around her mind – _I am in so much trouble._


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: OMG guys! I'm overwhelmed by the amount of alerts and favorites this got in a matter of like 48 hours! And the general positive response is so unbelievable! I am so inspired and happy to give you more – and that's why I'm uploading now. Here's chapter two, enjoy! Keep the reviews coming and chapters will fly, trust me :D It's past midnight here, so - it's my 19th birthday :)**

**Also, THANK YOU to everybody that reviewed and I took all your thoughts into consideration. Darcy ain't gonna be mopey and concerned all the time, sassy she is and sassy she will remain. BUT when she's afraid or in danger she has to be written properly according to the situation she's in. I'm glad you liked the beginning.**

**Near the end of the chapter I listened to: Skyrim - Sovngarde Song**

**Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Marvel.**

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Chapter 2

_Our hero, our hero, claims a warrior's heart,  
I tell you, I tell you, the Dragonborn comes.  
With a Voice-wielding power of the Ancient Nord art.  
Believe, believe, the Dragonborn comes.  
For the darkness has passed and the legend yet grows.  
You'll know, you'll know, the Dragonborn's come._

* * *

The white van was speeding through the desert, waking up the sleeping wasteland as the sand went flying up in the air, illuminated by the clear night sky. It was no wonder Jane and Erik picked this place of all other places on the planet Earth. The clearness of the sleeping cope of heaven was unparalleled. It went shoulder to shoulder with cold Northern skies and the magnificent celestial spheres of the South Pole.

On the drive back home, Darcy was biting her lip in nervousness. The Asgardian she picked in the desert fell silent. Except for when she would accidentally hit a bump or a rock that rocked the van. Then, then man would grunt in pain, occasionally spitting foreign profanities, but remained silent none the less.

Every now and then Darcy would glance in the rear view mirror.

He looked like he was ashamed for his earlier display of pain, eager to bottle in all the physical agony he felt.

Darcy observed his angled profile, his messy, wind-blown hair - black as night, framing his sharp features., the prominent nose that seemed to be flaring in barely restrained rage. The noble cheekbones, and thin lips, white as snow, pressed in a thin line, the hawk-like dark eyebrows, but most of all – the indescribably profound, deep emerald gaze that swirled with nebula of dignified emotion.

Darcy sensed he was watching her, even though he was not looking at her. She focused back on the road in front of her – realizing for the first time that night, how the mysterious man was - and there was no other way of putting it - _extremely_ handsome.

Despite the fact she found him attractive, the strange man breathed through his nose much too loudly, and Darcy doubted it was from the pain. It scared her, making her believe there was something more behind the fury from the pain that refused to let him go.

After a few minutes of driving, relief filled Darcy once she saw the glass house. She parked in front of it.

Walking out of the van, she shut the door less loudly this time, not feeling well with the thought of someone watching her while she dragged an injured, weirdly dressed man in the middle of the night. People would without doubt come knocking on her door the next morning and the questions would, no doubt, trigger more awkward inquiries and unnecessary glances.

In a small town such as Puente Antiguo, rumor and news spread faster than plague, and there was no cure for the curiosity of the residents.

Quietly, she opened the door to the house and ran back to the van where the mysterious man lay motionless, hidden in the comforting shadow, only the soiled, scratched gold pieces of his lush armor glinted spookily in the dark.

'I have to get you out.' She placed her hand on her hip, kicking the sand with her boot absently. '_Don't scream at me this time._' For some reason she wished not to meet his gaze.

'Every bone in my body is broken. My muscles are bruised, my nerves are _cut_ in two-' He hissed, his voice raising with each word 'Are you so clueless and obtuse that you think my shouting has anything to do with you touching me!?' he hissed, not looking at her as though disgusted by her presence.

'Ssshh! Okay, I get it!' Darcy whispered with a wince, taking hold of his armor clad shoulders once again with shaky fingers. She begged he did not see her ever present fear.

'Ready?' she said. 'I'll try to move you, and when I do, try not to scream.' She whispered to his form that lay hidden in the shadow.

'I would love to see you silent while Fenrir ripped your entrails with sharp teeth, you impudent-' He gritted out violently in his deep voice. His words were cut in the middle when Darcy pulled hard. He threw his head back with a stifled cry of pain, and in that moment, unable to control himself, he grasped Darcy's wrists, gripping them with the strength of a coiled snake.

The sudden coldness of another person's skin upon her own surprised Darcy, making her flinch ever so slightly. Nevertheless, this way, Darcy managed to drag him inside more quickly and quietly. The man was panting and gasping in pain, squeezing his eyes tightly in attempts to block out the agony he felt. Darcy's eyes watered at the unbelievable pressure his fists made on her wrists. _Well, hello, bruises!_ She thought sarcastically.

When they finally entered, Darcy quickly dragged him to the large couch, big enough to fit two people. The moment she was sure he was lying completely, she ran to the large glass windows and pulled the creamy white curtains so the place was blocked from the view on the main street. Then she turned on two lights in the back so the entire space was bathed in comfortable light.

'Where's my helmet?' Panic rose in his voice. Darcy noticed it.

'Oh, the horny thing?' she wondered out loud, scratching the back of her head.

'Yes, _mortal_.'

'Okay, you need to work on your attitude.' She pointed her finger at him.

'And _you-_' He glared at her '-need to learn your place. _Do as I say._'

Not wanting to anger him more, for he was still a complete stranger to her, Darcy bit the inside of her mouth – a smart reply almost slipping past her lips.

_He is not from this word._

Darcy reminded herself of this, so she turned on her heel, and walked to the car to get the helmet. When she returned inside, the man was still lying exactly as she left him. His arms were on his chest, resting, his head thrown back onto the sofa, raven black tresses in big contrast against the creamy sofa.

The helmet in her arms was slipping; the weight of it was frightening, considering one placed it on one's head. Darcy hurried to lean the helmet on a small coffee table in front of the couch. It landed with an echoing clang, vibrating some sort of energy, buzzing and making the air around it tremble.

'Damn, from what kind of metal do they make these? Freaking heavy!' she puffed.

'You are unworthy of the knowledge of mighty craftsmen who make our armor.' He said lowly.

She rolled her eyes at his condescending comment. Once more, Darcy lifted it into her arms and slowly walked to his lying form.

'What do you want me to do with it?'

'Place it in my hands.' The man regarded her with narrowed eyes. '_Carefully_.'

Slowly, Darcy did as she was told. She lowered it to his head, and just as she was about to crown his lying head with the golden horns, he stretched his long arms towards her own, wincing and bearing his teeth in pain. Darcy grasped the golden horn inside her fist, holding onto it in case his hold on the inhumanly heavy helmet was slipping.

Sighing, the man shifted it in his hands and placed it on his head as with as much dignity as he could muster while lying in pain. The moment his helmet met his head, the strange man started glowing. Darcy took a step back immediately, cringing and placing her palms upon her ears as she heard the faint noise of bones breaking, merging together, connecting and healing in the right places.

'_Oh, God!_' She exclaimed, cowering and shivering. The sounds chilled her to her core, twisting her gut.

The moment the terrifying noises stopped, the man threw his helmet off his head and it clanked loudly on the floor. He sighed, breathing hard, feeling his ribs and arms.

'What the hell was that!?' Darcy exclaimed, taking her glasses out of her pocket, and throwing her coat on a chair nearby.

All she was awarded was a smirk. Such a smug, self-satisfied smirk.

Darcy knew there was no use in beating about the bush, so she just went out with her question, not caring what he threw her way.

'Are you from Asgard?'

He was silent, watching her with a calculated, penetrating gaze.

Darcy brushed her dark hair behind her ear, answering instead of him. 'You are, aren't you?'

It seemed the man healed enough to sit up without help. 'And _what_ makes you so sure, mortal?' Still wincing in pain, he rasped, his throat spent and dry.

'Well, to begin with – you address me as a mortal.' Darcy smiled, surprising the mysterious man. 'Secondly, you mentioned Odin and Fenrir. Everything tells me you are either from Asgard, _really_ into Norse legends... or you're nuts.'

The man's eyes were sunken and dark, but there was a swirl of playfulness inside them '_Really?_'

'Really.' Darcy echoed, placing the glasses on her eyes 'Welcome to Earth.'

'What?' he rasped, cocking his head to the side, his shoulder-length hair falling over the side of his face.

'Oh, sorry.' Darcy smiled 'Let me rephrase that – _welcome to Midgard_.'

The man looked at Darcy in wonder, his brow furrowing in thought. Then, Darcy saw something spark on his face – it was smug, calculated and knowing. And she did not like it.

Silence fell around them.

'Well this is awkward.' She shifted in her spot, crossing her arms behind her back. 'Do you, um… Need anything?'

'I need you to leave me be.' The man said coldly, leaning his head on the backrest of the sofa, closing his eyes like she wasn't there.

'_Okay_ , um. If you're hungry, thirsty or something just scream – I noticed you have quite the lungs beneath all that fabulous armor forged by the hands of mighty blacksmiths of Asgardian caves or whatever.' Darcy said smirking a bit, not aware she may have crossed the line.

The irritating response made him twitch dangerously 'Do you mock _me_, mortal?'

'N-No.' Darcy's lips were parted as she took a few steps back, excusing herself in a hurry 'Of course not! Um - sorry! _Rest now_, you probably need it.' She babbled quickly, flapping her hands before her in unnecessary gestures, practically running to the hall and to door that lead into her light green painted room.

When she closed the door, she fell to her knees and pressed her ear to it, trying to make out any sounds. _Oh, shit, what if he's really pissed off, and comes here? _She thought in misery. When no sound met her eager ear, she slumped to the door, and sighed in the dark, closing her eyes.

_Who is that man? _

Darcy thought as she changed from her uncomfortable jeans into her pajamas and a loose printed t-shirt.

She had no idea, but Darcy was determined to discover things on her own. She may not have been an expert in Astrophysics, but she could do a lot of her own research by the runes and symbols Thor and his companions left behind when they left. The imprints in the sand left by the Asgardian warriors told a story of their own. Jane was too busy mourning over the fact Thor didn't return as he promised, and Erik was too busy comforting Jane. In those moments, Darcy drove to the impact spot and took pictures, eager to find out more.

During those two months after Thor left, Darcy read everything she could find concerning Norse mythology and culture. She dug up even the rarest books on the subject. She even read novels based on the gods of Asgard, Ragnarok etc. Poetic Edda and Prose Edda became her best friends. She relished the mystery and excitement of the temperament gods of Asgard, not quite grasping the fact she met one not two months ago. With each passing second, Darcy Lewis became more aware of it - she was sharing a residence with someone from Asgard at the present moment.

_He must be Aesir._ She thought as she brushed her hair in front of her mirror. Darcy made a pony tail on the top of her head, and as she splashed her face with cold water, trying to wash the tiredness of the exciting night, her brain worked furiously.

His armor, the symbols and ornaments on his clothes, the way he talked, his mannerism, his pride, the ever present nobility in his stance.

_The way he addresses me. A mortal._

All of it pushed Darcy to think she was dealing with an Aesir.

_But his hair seemes out of place – the legends say the Asgardians were all blond._

This man had the darkest hair Darcy has ever seen in her entire life. And green eyes. She remembered the looks he gave her.

_And that horned helmet of his- Wait! Hornes! Oh my God!_

A brush slipped past Darcy's fingers and thumped on the floor as she ran across her room, throwing herself on the bed and catching the big pile of unfinished literature on her nightstand - all of them concerning Norse mythology. She rummaged through them, her nails leaving marks on the book covers as she violently searched for the first book she ever read on Norse mythology. The one Erik borrowed, and _never_ returned to the library.

**'Myth and Legends from Around the World' by Anneka Sunden**

The old yellowed pages flew before her eyes as Darcy flipped through them, the heavy book propped on her knees as she thirsted for knowledge and information this book would provide her with.

Green eyes, black hair, horns, cunning, evil, nobility.

A tragic history of the Asgardian prince.

Lies... MISCHIEF.

Darcy closed the book with a booming thud, dust flying out of it like birds from a tree. Shakily, she stood up. Her knees felt like jelly and breath she desperately needed caught in her throat. With pale fingertips, she caught the handle of her door and opened them as silently as she could, trying not to disturb her guest. Sticking her head out of the slightly opened doors, she observed him from across the hall, not believing her own eyes…

The god of mischief, the trickster and the master of lies, the Norse god himself was resting, leaning back on the sofa with his arms behind his head.

Darcy's palm flew to her mouth in shock. The arch nemesis of Thor, his own brother, the one who fought him, the youngest son of Odin the Allfather, and the one who has sent the Destroyer to sweep Puente Antiguo to the ground, together with people who occupied it.

Oh, she has read enough and _seen_ enough to know one thing – those who didn't fear him made a big mistake. They did not realize how dangerous he was.

He was the darkest star in the whole of Nine realms, the most mysterious and undefined persona among the numerous gods of the Nordic pantheon.

Darcy could practically hear the distant choirs of old Vikings who sang to him, worshiped him, the one who played with them, mocked them, fought them, provoked them and _still survived_. The agent of chaos, the hedonist, the one who enjoyed himself the most - bringing comfortable chaos to the constant boring order of the universe.

Never before in her life has she been this scared or this excited and she felt herself fluttering inside out. He was there...

_Loki._

**AN: The song is called The Dragonborn Comes - Skyrim Bard Song****.**


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: I'll have you know that I have never updated stories this quickly. Here's chapter 3 for your enjoyment. THANK YOU SO MUCH! Keep the reviews coming, give me suggestions, tell me what you love, what you hate, but above all else - enjoy reading! **

**I recommend you listen to this while reading: Jeremy Soule - From Past to Present - Skyrim OST  
**

**Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Marvel.**

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Chapter 3

_There's a drumming noise inside my head,_  
_That starts when you're around._  
_I swear that you could hear it,_  
_It makes such an all mighty sound._  
_Louder than sirens,_  
_Louder than bells,_  
_Sweeter than heaven,_  
_And hotter than hell._

* * *

_'Loki!'_

A shrill scream of anger flew so suddenly, unannounced. It shook the royal palace to the ground, echoed off the golden walls, and across the gardens. The name of the trickster and the prince of Asgard reached the ears of each lord and lady of Asgardian court.

'Where _is_ he!?'

The woman's voice flooded the halls and grand ballrooms like an angry river, a river that carried a raging woman. She was stomping in the direction of the royal bedchambers, not caring about warnings and pleas of the maid that ran after her. Her footsteps were loud and unstoppable.

'_My lady_, we shouldn't be here- The All Father, the queen! We will be punished-' the maid stuttered in fright. But there were no words that could halt the determined woman from practically running towards her goal.

'Be silent, Eydís.' The proud lady replied briskly, her cutting voice silencing the shaking woman immediately. The woman looked down, obedient and quiet.

Both women passed a giant diamond archway and walked into the enormous golden corridor. Guards were positioned, standing every two feet, motionless and severe with lush armor and deadly weapons inside their manly fists. The women passed next to them, the lady in the lead not giving them a fleeting glance, her ocean colored eyes directed in front of her – her chin stuck out audaciously.

'_My lady-_' Eydís could not stop herself.

'_Quiet!_' the lady screamed at her maid now, and a few guards flinched.

The next moment, the two women were standing in front of large doors carved out of the darkest wood in the Realm Eternal. The large guards standing were on each side of the door stepped in front of her, crossing their sharp spears as she attempted to reach the entrance.

'You are not allowed inside.'

'Let me in.' she hissed, pointing her finger at the door 'Or _get him_ out.'

'Prince Loki will not-' The guard looked down at her severely, his words heavy.

'I demand to see him!' She yelled, stomping her foot on the floor in anger '_This instant!_'

'It is unwise to-' The guard never finished his sentence. The grand door opened, only , no one was standing behind them. Only when the lady glanced inside the vast room, she saw the one she demanded to see.

He was leaning back idly on the lush bed, his knees apart as he sat back lazily. He was facing the doorway, nonchalant and relaxed.

'Let her in.' He spoke in a deep voice.

The young woman walked in, leaving her maid behind her.

The door closed with a shuddering bang the moment she walked in. Her white gown was flowing behind her, sheer and made out of pure silk, shimmering with every movement in the darkness of the chamber.

There was a short silence, and then her shoulders slumped and she fell to her knees.

'Oh, Sif – ' Loki stood up, and walked with long steps towards her, his black attire with silver belt and emerald green leather not able to excel the indescribable blackness of his raven hair. The young Loki was quite tall for his years, his skin was as pale and glowing, like the whitest alabaster.

'H-How could you-' she shook with heavy sobs. Sif lifted her head up with a snap of anger, her hair, black as night, woven with the power of the god of mischief that stood before her, framed her face. It fell down, cascading, like a waterfall down her back.

If the blackness of the universe turned to liquid – that would've been Sif's hair.

'_How could you do this to me!_' she fisted her locks with both hands, her blue eyes spilling torrents of tears. The young girl, in all her distress and anger, never looked more beautiful to him. Loki stared at her, not able to form words for he was knocked down by the sheer force of her radiant fairness.

'I know you did this!' she pointed her shaking thin finger at him 'You never wanted him to-'

'Sif-' Loki lifted his arms to reach her, stepping even closer to her.

'You –' She whispered heavily, hugging herself in coldness 'You never wanted Thor to like me.'

Loki stepped back, his eyes darkening, fists of jealousy forming on his sides.

'You _always_ despised the idea of Thor and I being together. I _almost_ had him, and now - look at me!' she screamed, walking to the nearby mirror.

_Valhalla, why can't she see how beautiful she is?_

'Where is my blond hair, Loki!?' Sif stood in front of him, looking up at his tall person, her hand over her mouth.

'Black suits you better.' Loki said, and it flew past his lips much colder than he intended.

'Oh, you bastard.' Sif said with a shudder, her eyes foggy and unfocused. 'How will he _ever_ like me with this black hair? You know he will not! No one _ever_ will!'

_I will._ He thought quietly, not planning to say it out loud. To everybody Loki was a complex puzzle, and he planned to remain just that – in everybody's eyes – and that included Sif.

'I shall tell your mother about this! And you know she will tell Odin!'

Sif expected to see some sort of fear or uneasiness on Loki's face at the mention of his father, but nothing changed – he still stared at her, brooding and serious. A slight smirk graced his lips, right side of his mouth turned up devilishly.

'You disgust me.' She whispered with parted lips that held the bright color of raspberry.

'And you amaze me.' He said, catching her chin with his thumb and forefinger. 'If Thor cannot see past the color of your hair, do you really think he's worthy of you?'

'Then who _is_ worthy of me, Loki?' She smirked cruelly, as though on the verge of bitter laughter. '_You?_'

Loki leaned down and whispered close to her lips.

'One day, Sif, you shall be a fierce warrior.' He murmured, looking down at her. 'Fiercer than those oafs that call themselves Warriors three.'

'And, one day, Loki, you shall pay the price for your mischief _and_ that silver tongue of yours.' She hissed.

He smirked, sure of himself. 'Maybe. But until then...' And he leaned down more, wishing to kiss her. Only a breath remained as a barrier between their lips, when Sif's hand flew and slapped him across the cheek like a burning whip.

'_Never_ talk to me again, Loki.' She hissed, walking out of the room, her white and black figure running out of the darkness that filled Loki's chambers, and towards the golden halls.

Loki's green eyes burned in rage as he glared at her. _How dare she hit me? She is the one unworthy of me. She is the one who doesn't deserve anything. Oh, let her drown in her despair. I shall be glad to see Thor running after and courting other women. And I shall greatly enjoy seeing her pain._

Loki turned on his heel, returning to his books and scrolls of magic, sitting onto his chair.

_And pain she will feel._

...

The emerald eyes of the same man opened, on another realm, miles and miles away from a place he used to call home. The intensity of his gaze has not changed – only the darkness that surrounded his irises seemed deeper, like a labyrinth of emotion and evil foreboding.

Loki woke up on the sofa, still tasting the dream. It happened so long ago, the intense memory centuries away from him, but still it felt as though it happened yesterday.

Funny, how time changed people – even those whose lives were bound to never end.

The one he was attracted to, maybe even felt something for was now one of the biggest enemies he could think of. And he felt repulsed by her, all her innocence and lure she would radiate all those centuries ago now seemed to have turned to steel, as sharp and as uninviting as the very blades she wielded and killed with. Only her hair – which was his doing, looked the same.

And even now, centuries later, Loki smirked at his cruel but by far the most beautiful piece of magic he ever did on anyone.

Loki focused on the darkness of the room he was in, only to realize the mortal woman who took him in stood before him – as though petrified. He straightened up, still not overly comfortable at the thought of her watching him while he was not aware of it.

Oh, but that much he _was_ aware – every now and then, she would observe him, as though fascinated.

'I do not _appreciate_ being stared at while I sleep.' He said coldly as he ran his finger through the mess of his dark hair.

Darcy jumped up when his voice broke the silence that seemed to be filled with nothing but their own breathing.

'Well, I don't appreciate having bruised wrists, but _here we go_.' And with that Darcy lifted her hands up, one hand holding a book. Dark blue prints that his crushing fingers made clear upon her pale flesh.

'My apologies, mortal.' Loki bowed his head a bit.

Darcy's eyes widened, and she smiled at him, surprised 'You apologized.'

'Yes well - is it not a common custom on Midgard?' He said, dusting off his dirty armor, wincing in pain when he moved too quickly 'Or have you _not_ evolved from the barbaric bunch I last saw when I visited this rock.'

'Oh, I see the attitude is back.' Darcy said sheepishly, putting the book down, crossing her arms over her chest. She wore the pajamas and the band t shirt, her ponytail messy from lying down. It was 3 in the morning and she couldn't sleep, so she took the book and went to get herself a glass of water. The god of mischief was sleeping, and her curiosity was more than awake.

'Actually, we evolved quite nicely.' Darcy said, sitting down on a chair in front of the coffee table. 'But, I'll be honest – in certain aspects we are still close-minded and primitive.'

'Indeed?' he said, leaning his elbows on his knees.

'Yes. I don't know _when_ you visited Earth, but for a mortal nation, we _are_ special.'

Loki snorted in mock laughter.

'Of course you're going to react like this!' Darcy was annoyed by his reaction more than she expected 'You think we're dull, unintelligent, not capable of anything – but our planet has great value!' Darcy said, all her knowledge fighting against cold barriers of his, seemingly, higher mind.

'It's not so hard when you're immortal, is it? But _here_, where people's time is so limited, you have to plan _each_ year, _each_ day – because you are always, _always_ reminded of how _quickly_ it can all fade away.'

The passion and seriousness of the mortal woman's voice made Loki sober up a bit.

'And how, pray tell, do you know I am immortal?' He smirked.

'The same way I knew you were from Asgard.' Darcy crossed her arms defiantly, her glasses dangling from between her fingers.

'Continue...' he pointed with his long armor clad arm.

Silence.

'Now that I think about it, I don't think I will.' She stood up and walked towards the kitchen. 'You want a soda or something?'

When he said nothing, Darcy rephrased her question, rolling her eyes behind the refrigerator.

'Would you like a glass of water or some other beverage?' she smiled at her use of proper English.

'Yes.' A simple answer. She took bottled water and poured it in two glasses. Then, she reached for the ice and dipped two ice cubes in each glass. Grabbing hold of them, she closed the refrigerator with her hip and went to him.

'Here you go.' She placed his glass on the coffee table.

'Thank you.' Loki took hold of the cold glass, and when he saw two pieces of ice floating inside it, he smirked in bitter thought, his true parentage screaming in the dusty corners of him mind, and he dipped his long fingers and removed the two ice cubes on the table, not wishing to touch his lips to the frozen water.

'Don't like ice?' Darcy asked, sitting Indian style on the wide chair.

'Not overly.' He smirked, drinking his water in silence.

After a few moments Darcy sighed, and placed her glass back on the table.

'The old Norse people, _Vikings_, who probably lived at the time you visited this _rock'_ she emphasized the word, making him smirk 'Worshiped the gods of Asgard as deities. They wrote prose, poetry, they told stories, created myths and legends about them.'

He nodded, observing Darcy like a hawk. Her chest quivered in nervousness for a brief moment their eyes met, but she continued, praying he noticed nothing.

'And I read all of it, well – most of it.' Darcy said 'By observing you and what happened a few months ago, I came to the conclusion you were, in fact, from Asgard.'

'Fascinating; for a mortal.' He said, his lips drawing back in a toothy smile.

Darcy shifted uneasily. His behavior irritated her, and in the same time she wanted to impress him. And so Darcy said the following words without thinking.

'Yes, so fascinating, in fact, that I even know your name.' She stood up quickly, and went to the large window, trying to calm her nerves.

He made her uneasy.

'Indeed.' Loki murmured from his sitting position on the sofa, and Darcy felt his eyes burning into her back.

_This house is so damn quiet._

Taking a deep breath, Darcy closed her eyes and spoke, remembering those words she read a thousand times over:  
'Mocking, you made mischief at their feast,  
Delivered strife for their dessert,  
Sweeping aside their masks of morals,  
Revealing what they really were.  
Who was it who gave Sif her hair?  
Who was it who gave Odhin his spear?  
Who was it who gave Frey Skiðblaðnir?  
You, Loki, and for what?'

Darcy's palms were sweating. She continued:  
'So, who is it who we should praise for his tricks?  
Who is it who we should applaud for his wit?  
Who is it who we should prize for his quips?  
Why, you, Loki, you, Loki, you!'

Darcy took a deep breath and opened her eyes when she finished, her face extremely close to the glass window, almost touching the swaying curtains.

'And I met your… brother not two months ago.' She said, waiting for a reply.

It never met her ears.

Slowly, she turned and as soon as she did, Darcy jumped in fright when she realized the god of mischief was standing right behind her, closer than ever before.

'And may I-' He placed his hand over his heart '-have the _pleasure_ of knowing your name, my lady?'

Darcy's breath caught inside her throat as she observed his tall person and those dark, dark eyes. Slowly, she gave him her name.

'_Darcy_.' the soft syllables rolled of his silver tongue. His smirk grew, making Darcy weak at the knees. And he caught her bruised hand in his large one. With freezing but gentle touch, just like the melted ice cubes on the coffee table, he brought her hand to his white lips, and pressed a deep kiss on top of it, not breaking the contact their eyes made.

As the god of lies pressed the silver weapon that were his lips on her warm hand, enveloping her body in comfortable coolness, for the first time in her life, Darcy greeted the cold with open arms.

Outside, unnoticed, the early dawn was breaking.

**AN: The poem I borrowed is called 'Loki's poem' and it belongs to Carol Robe. And the song is Drumming Song – Florence + The Machine. REVIEW!**


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: Seriously, people, let me love you! **

**Please, if you wish, for maximum experience, listen to the following song because it's crucial for this chapter. But, don't play it until you see this - ## Once it appears in the text, press play. I think it gives it something really special. :)**

**Song of the Dragonborn - Sovngarde Chant by jessismith (just paste this on you tube and click the first link)**

**Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Marvel.**

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Chapter 4

_When you feel so tired, but you can't sleep,_  
_Stuck in reverse._  
_Lights will guide you home,_  
_And ignite your bones,_  
_And I will try to fix you._  
_Tears stream down your face,_  
_I promise you I will learn from my mistakes.__  
_

* * *

The cold lips of the god of mischief lingered upon Darcy's hand longer than she expected. Her heart hammered violently against its eternal prison, almost jumping out of her throat. The manner in which he held her fingers in his large hand was beyond gentle, the way he snatched her brown gaze with his green one was unbearable.

The sunken, tortured eyes of the Norse god were rimmed with pain and tiredness, and still, in the midst of infinite darkness sparkled mischief. He reminded Darcy of a man who walked through a cave, and have seen light for the first time after so long, adjusting to it, but not trusting it entirely.

After he parted from her hand and straightened up, Darcy realized how incredibly tall he was. She stared up at him, with flushed cheeks, disheveled dark hair, and wide eyes.

Loki smirked down at her.

'Where _I_ come from it is considered rude to stare at someone _unceasingly_.'

Darcy lowered her gaze immediately, her cheeks turning an even brighter cherry. She couldn't help but wince in her own embarrassment. Loki's grin grew; he enjoyed her small discomfort while she stood rigidly, cornered by his tall person.

'It's quite alright, Lady Darcy.' He cocked his head to the side. his smirk was determined to linger upon his visage.

_Lady Darcy? _She thought with a small quiver of excitement. _What happened to 'mortal'?_

'Yeah, um... Look at that!' she exclaimed, determined to change the subject and for at least one moment remove his burning gaze from her humiliated face.

'It's almost morning! Are you hungry?' She said to the ground. When she moved next to him, her arm brushed his.

A plethora of things entered her mind, but she decided, for the sake of her mental health, it was better to ignore them.

'Are you offering me a meal?' Loki turned after her, his dirty cape swishing behind him royally.

'Um, yeah.' She smiled, as she went to the kitchen for the second time that night. 'So, how 'bout it?' Darcy turned to him '_Cereals?_' she shook the colorful box at him.

Loki just stared at her.

'Whatever you deem appropriate for us to consume at this early hour will suffice.' He got back and sat on the sofa casually, leaning his arm across the top of the backrest, his knees apart. He sat like he owned the place. There was no doubt in Darcy's mind his posture mimicked his mind.

'I know nothing about Midgardian food.'

'Well, it's diverse and interesting.' Darcy said as she took out the milk carton and two bowls.

'I'm a terrible cook. _Except_ for sweet things.' She smiled. 'I can make pancakes, pudding, cakes and gateau. Muffins, brownies, biscuits and rahat lokum or Turkish delight as they like to call it.'

Loki couldn't help but simply stare at her back as she prepared their meal. The corner of his lip was tipped upward, wonder present in his eyes as he regarded Darcy like she was the most fascinating creature in all the Nine realms.

At the same time he was annoyed and entertained by her babbling. He didn't know any of the terms she spilled out of her lips, but for some reason, he listened.

'What is a… _pudding_?' he asked, propping his arm on his knee.

'Oh, it's like the best thing ever!' Darcy turned to him, snatching the strawberries out of the refrigerator. Taking a dramatic pose, she lifted her chin up and closed her eyes, as if picturing herself in the land of pudding.

'It's like this… rhapsody of chocolate and milk paradise, sweet but not too much, cold and soft, gentle and wiggly - like jelly.'

Loki smiled at her in amusement, not replying.

'_Trust me, words cannot describe it._' She plunged the strawberries in a bucket of water, and as she took two spoons, she pointed them at the god of mischief, 'I'll make it for you, and then you'll know what I'm talking about.'

'But, as far as other things go, like… meat, vegetables and stuff? I don't know, you'll just have to go to a diner 'cause I am not as skilled at preparing those.' Darcy poured the milk into two bowls filled with chocolate cereals, and cut strawberries on a small plate.

'You like bananas?' she asked him casually.

'I do not know what those are.' He said simply, as he walked towards the kitchen and the large table upon which Darcy already placed the bowls, fruit and spoons.

'They are Midgardian fruit. I'll put some on the side; you can try it if you want.' She smiled.

Loki sat down slowly, and eyed the food in front of him suspiciously.

'It's all fresh.' Darcy sat down too, and regarded him 'I'm not trying to poison you.'

'But you can't poison me, Lady Darcy' Loki lifted his chin up, meeting her eyes 'Remember? I cannot die.'

'Oh, right.' She murmured absently. Darcy then made a messy bun on top of her head, and motioned with her hands _'Well_, dig in.'

And they ate in silence. Every now and then, her eyes would betray her, and Darcy's gaze flew to him.

Loki sat upright, tense and noble. His wide shoulders square, his chin held high, and he took the bowl in his one large hand, and held his spoon in another. Slowly, he ate, with great manners. He caught the strawberries, popped it between his thin white lips and drank the milk. Darcy never knew breakfast could look so sophisticated.

Suddenly, the memory of Thor smashing the empty cup on the floor in a local diner, demanding _another, _made Darcy burst out laughing. This broke the silence that echoed with nothing but the clang of their cutlery against porcelain. Loki looked at her incredulously, putting down his spoon.

'Oh, I'm sorry! It's just…' She covered her mouth with her hand as she giggled 'I remembered the way Thor-'

The moment the words left her mouth, Darcy realized, she let something slip. Loki shifted, shadow falling over his eyes at the mention of his brother.

'Is there _something_ you are not telling me?' He placed the bowl down, much violently than he intended.

'Well, I-I already told you - I met your brother.' Darcy probably shouldn't have mentioned that in front of him.

'And how is it that you... _acquainted_?' Loki smiled, but it didn't quite reach his darkened eyes.

Darcy sighed, as if defeated, and went to grab the bowls. Loki's arm flew and stood between Darcy's outstretched fingers and the dishes.

'_It can wait_, Lady Darcy.' He cocked his head to the side, his hair again falling over his face. This time he did not smile, and Darcy felt fear. 'How is it that you met?' he pressed.

Darcy removed her hand and placed them in her lap.

'He fell on Earth two months ago. He told us his father banished him.' She shook her head. Loki stared at her. 'I-I was not alone. I used to live here with two more people. Erik and Jane. They, they left not 48 hours ago.' Darcy's voice quivered, as she realized they really left her. Only then, the weight of cruel reality threatened to fall down upon her head.

_They abandoned me._

'Jane and Thor kind of, got involved. And since we left, we all worked on getting him back. For Jane.' She said. 'During Thor's stay here,' Darcy paused, '_you_ sent the Destroyer. And he said he had to go back to fight you. He promised Jane he would return, but he didn't. We – well - _I_ thought, he got killed in the fight. Of course, I would never say that to Jane. That would crush her.'

_So, this... Jane is the one who made Thor so weak? How pathetic, brother._

'That's it.' Darcy said, summoning her courage and standing up 'When Thor fell down on earth, he left markings on the sand, and his fall was followed by strong lightning and beams of energy. When _you_ fell down, something similar happened, and that's what made me think you were from Asgard. Beside other things.'

Loki too stood up, as if following Darcy's movements.

'Can I take the bowls away now?' She asked 'Or are you going to release your pent up rage on me 'cause I want to wash the dishes?'

'There is no need for that.' Suddenly he smiled, and waved his hand. The movements of his elegant fingers made the bowls, spoons and plates fly to the sink and settle down soundlessly.

Darcy stared at him 'Was that you!? You did magic!?' She smiled widely, beaming at him. 'That was so amazing!'

'I merely moved it.' He said bluntly.

Darcy laughed in disbelief 'Well, I've never seen someone do it! We _can't_ do magic. It's...' Darcy said in awe '...far above _all_ of us here.'

Loki was intrigued; it seemed that each second he learned more about this strange realm.

However, this particular revelation angered him. To know that on this lower planet inhabited by mortals, they _admired_ magic. While in Asgard, the sole thing he committed his time to was _always_ frowned upon. In Asgard, the home of gods and goddesses of the Nine realms, battle and glory was all that mattered. Not magic, not sorcery, not the subtle art that required the control, strength and determination of the mind. And so Loki, ever the rebel, diligently worked on magic – a strange world only some dared to venture in. Odin did, and now, _look at him_ - the All Father, the King.

Alas, the All Father was fortunate enough to wield two swords – the one drenched in the blood of battle, and the one glowing with spells.

'Magic only exists in books or films-' She smiled, 'Can you do it again?'

'I am not a court jester or an entertainer, Lady Darcy.' He scoffed 'I do magic _only_ when I want to.'

Darcy rolled her eyes 'Sure, whatever.'

There was a short pause.

'So, did you like the breakfast?' Darcy asked, moving to the counter to clean the dishes. 'I know it wasn't much. You are probably used to…I don't know - wild boars, ambrosia and mead? Or whatever you gods enjoy in higher realms.'

'It was quite satisfying.' Lifting his dark eyebrows, Loki smiled. When Darcy saw this, she noted it was the first time since she took him in, that he seemed truly genuine.

Darcy filled the sink and washed the dishes.

##

Loki sighed, closing his eyes, realizing how the pain in his side still lingered. Wincing, he moved to the couch, and leaned down on it, laying his head on the armrest. Putting one arm under his head, making himself comfortable, he observed Darcy.

She stood in front of the counter. The soft beams of the rising sun pushed their way through the curtains. They made her hair glow. Still in her sleeping robes, her sleeves up to her elbows, washing the dishes with a comical bun on top of her head, with bubbles flying out of the spilling sink, Darcy captured the attention of the lying god.

Her bare feet made noise upon the tiled floor as she scratched her right calf with her left foot, almost loosing balance and falling down.

His lips twitched in a smile.

_Such a strange creature. _

Drowsiness filled him, and he felt himself slipping. Then, something happened - The silence was broken by a voice. Softly, Darcy started humming.

It was a gentle song, like a lullaby, distant and ancient. It gently flew past her lips. Loki's eyes burned in her back, watching as she swayed with the song she sang unknowingly.

He thought he recognized the song.

Was it the tiredness that played with him?

"_Dragonborn, Dragonborn by his honor is sworn__, __**  
**__T__o keep evil forever at bay.__**  
**__And the fiercest foes rout when they hear triumph's shout,__**  
**__Dragonborn, for your blessing we pray.__**  
**__Hearken now, sons of snow, to an age, long ago, __**  
**__And the tale, boldly told, of the one.__**  
**__Who was kin to both wyrm and the races of man,__**  
**__With a power to rival the sun."_

Loki felt the freezing hands of his past lifting him up, off the sofa, out of the house, away from the dry ground of Midgardian realm, high into the sky, pass the clouds – and into the eternal night. He flew gently, only to find himself back in Asgard.

Loki's eyes fluttered shut, lulled by the song Darcy hummed.

Sleep took over.

…

When they brought him in, he wasn't aware of anything. His bare torso, shoulders and arms quivered like branches upon a violent storm. His muscles coiled like snakes, writhing inside his shuddering limbs. He fluttered inside and out, snake's fiery venom glistening off his fair skin. His raven hair was drenched with sweat, damp tresses falling into his tired half-lidded eyes. His hands curled in fists for days, the nails leaving bloody half-moons in pale palms.

They took him to healing rooms, and once they entered, a healing maiden screamed, covering her mouth with fair fingers. Glass broke on the floor as it slipped from her healing hands.

'Be calm, woman!' yelled a familiar voice on his right, carrying him with the help of another guard.

'_T-Thor?_' Loki murmured in his delirium.

The rough voice spoke on his right. 'I am here brother.'

Loki slipped in and out of consciousness the entire time. As if some higher force wanted him to suffer even more – he regained consciousness just as they were placing him upon a healing bed.

Once his burning skin touched the cold white sheets, sprinkled with dried plants that held healing properties, his entire upper body arched off the bed and Loki opened his mouth and screamed.

The wail of anguish and burning pain that pumped through his entire being ran into each corner of the High realm, echoing hauntingly. For the first time, Aesirs neither laughed, nor looked down upon Loki – for they all cringed at the thought of the pain he must have felt.

Their resentment disappeared, at least for a moment.

It was during those terrifying screams that another person burst through the doors of the healing chambers of the palace, and matched Loki's screams with those of heartache.

'My son!' Frigga threw herself on her knees on Loki's side, frantically catching her son's face in gentle mother's palms. He bared his teeth, his eyes spilling so many tears – Frigga could not distinguish where his tears began and sweat and venom ended.

'Oh Valhalla! What has happened?' The voice of the High Queen of Asgard shook and quivered, just like her second son's wounded body.

No one answered.

'Thor!' she yelled, mindlessly searching for the elder son.

He was at her side immediately. Thor stood in all his powerful glory, Mjölnir swaying from his silver belt. And as he came closer, he wrapped his thick arms around his mother's thin form.

'Where was he?'

'We found him on a cliff. Far away from here, by the sea.' He murmured lowly.

'Mother...' Thor searched for most tender words that would help him deliver the dark news to his mother.

'_Speak, Thor!_' Frigga took hold of his shoulders 'And, by Yggdrasil, search not for gentle words if there are none!'

'He was chained on a rock.' He said gravely. 'Snake's venom was dripping onto him.'

Frigga's eyes held the color of early dawn. They shined like jewels, leaking torrents of tears, an ocean of pain wide open and looking at her elder son.

'How long?' Her parted lips barely moved as she whispered, despair knitting mother's eyebrows.

'We believe he was there for as long as he was missing from the palace.'

Frigga shut her eyes immediately, throwing herself back beside Loki. Her muffled sobs shook her entire body, as she placed her cheek upon Loki's and cupped the side of his face.

'Oh, _my son_, my sweet, my dear, dear Loki.' She called his name, uttering it like a mantra, shaking her head sadly.

'He shall heal, mother.'

The coldness which may not have been intended shook Frigga from her grief, instead filling her with anger.

'At times, Thor, you can be so cruel, so cold and _so like your father_.' She hissed, 'And what about the scars that shall _never_ heal, my son!?'

Frigga looked at Thor, waiting for an answer, her golden head proud.

'There are some things that you shall never understand!' She turned to Loki's unconscious body. '_Mother knows._'

A healer cleaned Loki's wounds, and Frigga caught a silk cloth, dipped it in warm healing water and cleansed his face. 'The fine fabric of his mind shall wear thin, for that kind of agony must be a slashing knife like the one warriors wield.'

Thor shifted in his spot, looking around, uncomfortable and shocked by his mother's sudden anger.

'I shall tell the guards to call for father.'

'No.' Frigga hissed poisonously. 'I_ know_ this is his doing.'

When those words left her, the rushing healing maidens stopped their work, and bowed their heads. It was unheard of to speak in such a manner about the All Father, even if the words belonged to his own wife.

Her voice echoed in the great golden hall. The carved ceiling was masterfully decorated, bearing the faces of the ancestors who gazed down the scene beneath them with indifferent eyes.

Her voice was shaking in rage as she pointed her finger at Thor, still kneeling at Loki's side. 'Until Ragnarok, _I vowed_, to stand by your father's side. _And I shall_.' She let golden arm fall. 'But Valhalla, _at this hour_, I do not wish to see his face.' Frigga gritted through her teeth.

Thor looked at his mother incredulously, disgusted by what he heard.

'You've done enough for this eve, Thor. Now, for the love of Aseir, _leave us in peace._' While she said those words, Frigga lifted her palm in front of her face, blocking the face of her elder son that reminded her so much of her husband.

A bang of golden doors shook the large room. Thor was gone, the hum of Mjölnir silenced.

Frigga shut her sublime blue eyes, and caressed the side of Loki's troubled face.

'Mother...' he rasped, the greenest pools directed gently towards his beloved mother's face.

'Dream. Rest. Be calm, my son.' She whispered to his ear softly, tenderly, smoothing back his dark hair, running her soothing cold fingers over his burning scalp.

'I am here, Loki.' Leaning down, Frigga pressed a long kiss to her son's cold forehead. 'Mother loves you.'

Tenderly, like a small sea wave running towards the cracked sand, she opened her mouth and sang to him the ancient lullaby, like she did in distant centuries when he was a small child.

The salty wind of the ocean drifted inside the healing rooms, stole the song from Frigga's lips and returned it to Midgard.

There, Loki slept, remembering and dreaming, while the last word of the ancient lullaby rested on the heart-shaped lips of strange mortal woman - Darcy.

**AN: The song is Fix You - Coldplay. Please review! :)**


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: I love you guys! I hope you'll enjoy this chapter. **

**I listened to **_**Davy Jones Music Box with Rain **_**(just paste it in you tube) almost the entire time. Remember, tell me what you want/think/feel/hate/love - REVIEW ! **

**Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Marvel.**

* * *

Chapter 5

_You look good in leather, in bars,_  
_Breaking things, breaking hearts._  
_You look good in pleasure, in hotels._  
_Loneliness is the key to break that spell._  
_I am terrified, I think too much._  
_I buy every cry, cause I don't trust._  
_But the gravity between us will keep us safe._

* * *

It was a gloomy morning.

Rain never fell in Puente Antiguo, but it always seemed to flutter in heavens, as though terrified of touching the dry desert sand. And when those days came, everything seemed heavier. The weather was reluctant to show its true face, making it harder to breathe, making the wind warmer, air thicker and visions blurrier.

And it was exactly how Darcy felt that morning. She felt moody, and the weight of the cruel reality settled more and more on her weary head as she dried the plates and returned them on the shelves. Darcy was happy that at least her guest showed a more friendlier side than when they first met.

He was still a mystery.

As an avid reader of Norse mythology, Darcy knew what the myths and legends told about her guest. And while she devoured those books, Darcy felt like she was soaring into the sky – like she knew everything. But when she spoke to the god himself, when she faced him, when she heard his deep voice - everything she knew evaporated into thin air.

The eyes of the god of mischief made her forget.

This terrified Darcy. But _even_ more frightening was the fact – she _liked_ it.

One moment she couldn't stop staring at him, and the other she was afraid to look his way. Darcy knew very well who he was, knew what he was capable of.

He was capable of evil.

_Loki._

Such a puzzle, such a labyrinth, such a beautifully complex riddle. Darcy wanted to solve him; Darcy felt this indescribable urge to figure him out.

_Can you? _

She shivered as she practically heard his velvety whisper inside her head.

_Are you brave enough to unlock me?_

…

When she finished washing the dishes, her t-shirt was wet, and her hands smelled intensely of lemon perfume from the detergent. Feeling like her head will explode, Darcy grasped her own forehead with her cold palm and closed her eyes.

_I need to lie down._

She sighed, and just as she was about to turn and walk to her room, her hand accidentally shoved one of the bowls and it flew to the ground, shattering loudly into million porcelain pieces.

Darcy jumped in surprise when it violently hit the floor, and shielded her eyes and face if anything came flying her way. When she looked up to see if the racket disturbed the sleeping god, with surprise, she found he did not move an inch. _Not one inch_. His eyes did not flutter open, his body did not stir.

Loki lay there, completely still.

This was beyond strange considering he seemed to have eyes on the back of his head and ears the size of her laptop.

Darcy frowned.

_Something's wrong._

She didn't know why, but she had a bad feeling. Quietly, she stepped with her bare feet around the sharp shards of porcelain, careful not to step on them. _Bruised wrists are more than enough... _She thought miserably, and the pain in her hands flared up again. _I'll take care of the mess later..._

Quietly, she walked to the coffee table, her feet carefully touching the cold tiled floor. Walking around the table, Darcy found herself looking down at the lying god.

_Never tickle a sleeping dragon._

But she couldn't help herself. Was he dead? He wasn't moving.

_He can't die, you idiot! He fell from the universe and lived!_ Darcy thought to herself furiously.

But his chest was not moving.

_Well, of course you can't see it move - he has three tons of armor metal on him!_

And so a battle went on inside her. Her curiosity screamed to her one thing while her rational mind argued back just as fiercely with another.

_Maybe if I scream he'll wake up?_ A thought passed through her mind. And Darcy almost snorted in laughter at her own ridiculous ideas.

_Genius, Darcy, you're a freaking genius! Go embarrass yourself further!_

_Check his breathing!_

But was she brave enough to touch him?

_Remember what happened the last time you touched him - he went crazy!_

Darcy hopped in nervousness, her palms sweating.

_Maybe I _should_ check his breathing._

And thus Darcy went for the most stupid thing she could do – she knelt on the edge on the sofa, her knees bunching the soft fabric of Loki's emerald cape. She supported herself above him by holding one hand on the edge of the backrest. Her stomach clenched as she leaned her head closer to his face, turning her ear towards his nose and mouth.

She waited.

When a cold breath brushed the hair of her neck, she realized he was _indeed_ alive, only sleeping tightly. Darcy sighed, relief filling her. Careful not to touch him, she moved back, leaning her other arm on the coffee table. A memory of last night invaded her thoughts.

_'Don't like ice?' Darcy asked._

_'Not overly.' He smirked._

Then, all of a sudden, Darcy's fingers slipped on the small pool of water that used to be the cold ice cubes Loki took out of his glass earlier that morning, and she fell, full on, on top of him.

'Shit!'

If Darcy's screaming and breaking porcelain didn't wake Loki from his troubled sleep, then her falling on top of him certainly did.

Loki stirred, giving a low _humpf_, as their bodies unexpectedly met. His dark eyes flew open, and met Darcy's brown ones. Their noses almost touching, Darcy saw the rage collecting inside his irises. With a small squeak, Darcy scrambled away from him, her limbs all over the place as she slipped down and next to the coffee table, almost hitting herself.

'And _what_, in the name of Odin, are you doing?' Loki groaned as he sat up, wincing, the nagging pain still in his side.

'Sorry, I, um-' Darcy stuttered, trying to move from the ground 'I was just checking if you were breathing-'

Only when the words left her mouth, did she realize how stupid she sounded.

She observed as his eyebrows slowly lifted, his expression growing irritated.

'I believe-' Loki smiled, his voice lacking humor '-we have _discussed_ this.'

Darcy stared at him from her position on the ground, unable to utter a single word.

'_I cannot die!_' He barked suddenly at her 'Or are you so _brainless_ and _unintelligent_ that such simple a thought could slip your little mind!'

The venom in his voice stung Darcy, and each angry word he sent flying her way felt like a slap. There was no way she could protect herself. She didn't expect this.

'Why are you so pissed off all the time?' The voice was rising.

His fists tightened.

'Why are you so angry!?'

'It's none of your business, mortal.' He growled, shifting in his spot.

'Oh, so we're back at _mortal, unworthy, how dare you _approach?' Darcy wanted to yell, only words staggered in her throat, tears pricking her eyes as everything piled up in that moment.

The fact her only family left her, him yelling at her, being unable to define herself, being lonely. It all boiled over.

Loki looked at her, his eyes reduced to slits.

'I am an idiot. You wanna know why?' She yelled bitterly 'Because I helped you! Because I thought bringing you here would be… I don't know – _an act of kindness!_'

She stood on her two feet, and moved on the other side of the coffee table, so the poor unfortunate furniture was left, the only barrier between two raging tempers.

'I did not ask it of you.' he snarled, as he slowly stood up to his full towering height.

'You could've at least said _thank you_!' Darcy motioned with her hand at him, yelling.

'I do not owe my gratitude to anyone! Especially not a mortal!'

'Oh, you _bastard_.' Darcy laughed bitterly, painfully reminding Loki of Sif - not only by the manner in which she hissed those cruel words to him, but by her hot temper, her bravery that bordered with stupidity, and above all else - her beauty.

'You know what-' Darcy snatched her glasses off, wiping her eyes with her fist. 'I'm not even surprised you are despised so much by _your own_ people.'

_It turned out it was stupidity, not bravery._

Loki lifted his eyebrows, incredulity swimming in his green gaze 'And I see you are loved yourself, very much, mortal, when you are left _completely alone_ with a stranger.'

He struck a nerve.

'I-It's not the same!' Hissed Darcy 'I didn't kill somebody and let _others_ take the blame.'

Silence.

Loki went still, and lowered his voice to a velvety murmur. Underneath it, still, shined a threat. Darcy was treading on very thin ice.

'If you are wise as you _think_ you are, mortal, you _shall not_ go further.'

'Oh.' A cruel smile welled up on her face, her head swimming in newly acquired knowledge. 'You don't want me to talk about Baldr?'

She was going to regret it later.

'You will not speak of this-' Loki snarled, lifting his long finger and motioning threateningly at her face.

'Why not?' Darcy raised her voice, gripping the sides of her shirt with her fists 'You are a liar, a traitor and a _murderer_.'

She hissed the last word, and he felt it like a dagger in his stomach.

Those words breathed life to his wrath.

'How dare you!?' he hissed '_How dare you_, you insolent little brat!?'

'Dare what? Tell it as it is?' Everything tumbled past her lips, her mind shut down by the anger she felt. '_Is the god of lies afraid of one small simple truth!?_' She yelled with a cruel smile.

'Don't you _dare _assume to know anything about me!' Loki yelled, his eyes wild, filled with fury.

Darcy wanted to retort, to scream at him, but he cut her off in a booming voice. Something more than just anger and grudge swirled in this dangerous whirlpool of emotion. It was desperation, a strained cry for help. It yelled – _Listen to me! Listen to my side of the story!_

'All these books you read are nothing!' Loki motioned with his armor clad arm at the bookshelf filled with books on the other side of the room.

'They mean nothing, because mortals who wrote them know nothing! And YOU know_ NOTHING_!'

'Prove it then!' Now even tears surged forward, leaking in torrents down her pale cheeks.

'I do not have to prove anything to you - a pathetic, silly little girl!'

'And you are a sad, whiny baby brother, who won't accept he is _unworthy_ of the throne that rightfully belongs to Thor!'

She knew exactly where to hit him.

Everything fell silent after those words left Darcy. Nothing could be heard but the wind that blew, carrying the sand under gloomy skies.

She saw a great shadow falling over his green eyes, making them spark like sharpened emeralds, his hands shaking slightly as they curled into rock hard fists.

This time, power surged inside Loki, the one he did not wish to summon while on Earth, and it fluttered around him, tampering and teasing the poor Midgardian electric system. The lights in the lamps fluttered above their heads as though they will burn out at any second.

Darcy has never been so afraid in her life, cursing her big mouth, retreating, slowly stepping away from him.

But there was no time for self-deprecation.

Loki bared his teeth like an angry animal, his handsome face warped by indescribable ire as he charged forward, flipping the small coffee table effortlessly, sending it flying in the direction of the kitchen.

It crashed down, broke, splinters of wood and shards of glass cracking and breaking like fireworks in the sky.

When he got rid of everything that separated him from Darcy, he continued forward with wild abandon, like a predator, advancing on her shaking form.

'_Whiny baby brother, am I now_?' he hissed, spitting venom like a serpent.

For a brief moment, she thought he will surely kill her.

Loki went further, and grabbed Darcy by her shoulders, making her scream in pain, as he pushed her against the wall violently, putting each of his armor clad arms on one side of her head, making it impossible for her to run away.

Darcy felt so small, so helpless when cornered by him. With his pale noble nose almost touching her forehead, he leaned even more down, throwing death glares her way.

'I wonder how would _you_ feel if you were blamed for the death of someone you did _not_ kill and then have _your own father_ condemn you to the punishment worse than an eternity in the depths of Hel?' his voice was terrifying.

By that time, Loki was shaking with rage, his lips quivering frighteningly. Darcy thought she saw his eyes glisten, and in that brief moment, in that small fleeting second, all that she thought she _knew _about him fell silent, into deep, deep dark water, never to be found again.

He hit the wall beside her face in anger. It cracked under the impact of his angry fist.

'Do you know what it means for an_ immortal_ to die? Can you imagine the amount of _pain_ one must endure in order to end what _cannot be ended_!?' He screamed at her, lights fluttering, matching the uneven beating of Darcy's heart.

Her eyebrows knitted, with tears streaming down her cheeks she listened to him. Her lungs felt tight.

He was so beautiful, so troubled, so tragically lost. In her guilty silence, Darcy had to bury down the urge to touch him, had to keep her own hand from caressing his cheek.

She just breathed deeply, refusing to break the deep contact they shared.

_Green and brown. Lost and found._

Loki saw Darcy felt his pain, her tears now leaked not because of rage or fear… But because of the incredible surge of empathy he saw emanating from the mortal woman before him.

'_Sentiment._' He spat the word as though its taste was repulsive. Lifting his long pale finger, he caught the millionth tear that fell down her white cheek.

'It shall be the death of us all.'

A single, lonely tear slipped from his eye, trickled down his pale cheekbone, and dangled on his chin. Then it fell, and landed in the hollow where Darcy's collarbones met.

'I am so sorry.' Darcy whispered, shaking her head, cheek still tingling where he touched her. '_Please forgive me._' she repeated whispering.

Loki leaned forward even more, sighing, propping his arms on each side of Darcy's head. Darcy leaned her head back on the cracked wall, closing her teary eyes.

So close they stood, listening to each others breathing.

Darcy opened her lips shakily and spoke, remembering the verse from one of the rare truthful books that seemed to have said everything instead of her own words.

'_I was born in battle's fire,_  
_Laid beside my mother's corpse,_  
_My toys the ravens of the field,_  
_My lullabies the screams of horse._  
_Odin saw me on the field,_  
_And recognized his bastard son,_  
_There he claimed me for his own,_  
_Heir to all that he had won._  
_What is the honor they give me?_  
_Denied a seat in Odin's hall,_  
_Forbidden fruits from Idun's tree,_  
_And cast outside of Asgard's walls._  
_But when that storm god you all praise,_  
_Walks the earth and shatters trees,_  
_You huddle close beside my gift,_  
_And whisper prayers beside the spit,_  
_And as the wood smoke turns and twists,_  
_You owe your lives to sly Loki._  
_So sit beside the fires gleam,_  
_And count the wrongs that I have borne,_  
_I wait for Ragnarok and dream,_  
_Hark! Is that the battles horn?'_

**AN: The song on the end is by Mikal Htafspa - Loki's song, and one on the beginning is ****I am terrified – IAMX. PLEASE REVIEW ! :) :)**


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: You can't imagine how happy I am to see you love the story! Thank you SO MUCH for reviewing!**

** While I wrote this chapter I listened to: At World's End Expanded Score - Love Theme (Extended) - write it like that to you tube :)**

**Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Marvel.**

* * *

Chapter 6

_Come on, come on,  
__Put your hands into the fire.  
__Explain, explain,  
As I turn I meet the power.  
This time, this time,  
Turning white and senses dire.  
Pull up, pull up,  
From one extreme to another._

* * *

_Such words, such truth, such courage._ The song this mortal woman chanted felt like a beam of warm light. He saw tears that fell because she felt his pain. And in his gut, he sensed something he didn't for far too many centuries. For far too long he has been denied... Compassion, tenderness, empathy.

His handsome face stripped of the terrifying mask of anger, now looked down at Darcy – astonished and... _desperate_? He still rested his arms on each side of her head, not moving a muscle. Darcy somehow felt the spasm of nervousness yielding, giving away under his powerful gaze, shielded by his body.

Darcy once again felt the fluttering inside her chest, her heart hammering so loudly inside her, she thought Loki must have heard it.

'I-I am sorry.' He swallowed, his eyes half lidded and _staring_ at her lips _'I did not mean to raise my voice._'

Darcy only breathed loudly, unable to form words, her cheeks still wet from her tears. But none fell from her eyes. Not anymore.

'My mind is weary, lady Darcy.' He whispered brokenly 'It is filled with unpleasant memories and my dreams are much more vivid than they should be.'

Then Loki pushed off the wall, and let his long arms fall on his sides. But, his legs did not move, and the closeness remained between them, comfortable and welcoming.

'Please-' Darcy said suddenly, putting a stray hair behind her ear '_I_ provoked you. I was being disrespectful. I should be the one apologizing.'

Then, she smiled warmly, and Loki felt it like a gentle hand upon his tired cheek.

'And - call me Darcy. Just Darcy.' She smiled playfully 'I'm not a lady. Never was, never will be.'

Loki smirked, his eyes shining mischievously. The darkness seemed to disappear. For now, at least.

'Yes, _Darcy_.' He repeated, carefully, pronouncing each letter, each syllable – making Darcy's name – which she always considered ordinary – sound like the name of a noble queen, a goddess, a Valkyrie.

'A beautiful name.' He complimented, inclining his head. She smiled toothily, her excitement obvious. She was flattered. Loki looked pleased as he went to move away to give her some room to breathe. Just as he was stepping back, his pleasant expression turned sour and he bared his teeth in pain.

Darcy's smile fell immediately. She stepped forward, her arms stretched towards him in concern.

'Are you okay?' she asked, looking him up and down.

'Y-Yes, I'm perfectly well, Darcy.' He said, and Darcy saw him place his large spidery hand over his side. 'It's just pain from the fall.'

Darcy fiddled with the hem of her wet t shirt, and looked around in uncertainty. Her bare feet felt cold on the freezing tiled floor, and she still paid attention not to step on the porcelain shards.

_God, this place is a mess..._

'Well, here –' she motioned to the sofa 'You just lie down, and rest-'

Just as she turned her head towards the bright colored furniture, she noticed a small puddle of crimson red staining the milky cream color of the shining leather. She froze in shock, and turned with wide eyes to him.

'Y-you are bleeding!' she exclaimed.

A streak of annoyance could be spotted on Loki's face, as he winced and stood more rigidly, as though to show her he was perfectly fine. 'It's just a small wound. It will heal.'

Darcy stepped closer to him 'If it were a small wound it would've healed when you put the shiny, healing helmet thing on!' she made horns with her fingers above her head.

Loki peered down at Darcy, his lips pressed in a thin line, and she swore he looked like he was about to shout at her. The spidery fingers that gripped his side loosened.

'Just... Let me help you.' Tightly, she closed her eyes and pleaded him.

The coppery scent of blood filled her nose, and Darcy felt uneasy. He pursed his lips, and gave her a hard look. At last, he nodded. Darcy beamed at him, and walked with him silently to the sofa. Loki laid down elegantly, despite his obvious pain, his head propped on the head rest, so he saw what she was doing.

'_Okay_' her hands were shaking visibly, as Darcy sat on the edge, by his side. 'First, we should remove the armor.'

And as she reached to take it off, Loki's bloodied hand caught hers, this time gently, so he wouldn't bruise her wrist. It was sticky and freezing.

'Asgardian clothes are _much_ more complicated than they look.' He said, his voice a velvety whisper. 'I shall remove it.'

'Yeah! Sure!' Darcy said, blushing 'I- um, I'll be right back.'

With that, she stood up and went to her room. No. She _ran_ to her room. Bursting inside, she closed the door and as she walked to her bed, removing her wet t shirt and throwing it over a chair. Then she stepped inside her bathroom, and looked herself in the mirror.

Eyes rimmed with red, disheveled messy long dark hair, and pale face was what she saw when she faced her own reflection. Darcy shakily washed her arm and the bloodstained finger prints Loki left on her flesh. Then, she splashed water on her face, and wiped it with a clean towel. Taking her brush in her hand, Darcy furiously brushed her hair, until it fell down her back - shiny and without tangles.

'Get a hold of yourself, Darcy Lewis.' She spoke to her own reflection, leaning down onto the sink. She was left in her black tank top and a blue striped pajama bottoms.

'Just, take it easy.' Breathing deeply, she relaxed.

Darcy then remembered she had a bleeding god in her living room, and hurried up. Taking a small plastic basin, she filled it with hot water. Then she took the first aid kit and clean towels from a drawer. As she rummaged through the big draw, she found her taser.

The small black weapon glinted innocently in the corner of the drawer.

'I won't be needing that right now' she smiled, and balancing everything in her arms, returned slowly towards the living room.

Once Darcy rounded the corner of the hallway, she faced Loki once again. His upper body was propped up a bit, so he was between lying and sitting. The armor and the cape were gone. Pieces of various Asgardian weapons, daggers, breast plates, shoulder pads all lay neatly placed on the chair beside the sofa.

Loki was wearing black pants and a torn, blood drenched dark green tunic. His long legs were crossed and relaxed, dirty leather boots almost dangling off the edge.

_He is so tall._

Darcy thought to herself, as she sat beside him on the edge of the sofa. Since the coffee table was lying in pieces on the other side of the room, she placed everything on the floor.

'I've never done this before.' she said as she took the towel and dipped it in warm water.

'Did what?' he asked casually, his arms behind his head.

'Well, you know, sewed wounds, treated injuries. But, like, serious injuries.'

'This is not a serious injury, Darcy.' He smirked, sure of himself.

'Yeah, well...' she lifted her eyebrows at him 'that remains to be seen.'

And with that, Darcy placed the warm towel on her knees.

'May I?' she motioned at his abdomen, careful and attentive.

Loki eyed her, and nodded 'You may.'

Cursing her shaking fingers, Darcy took the hem of his tunic and lifted it to inspect his wound. Breath caught inside her throat as his pale, lean, not overly muscular flesh met her curious eyes. And there it was – the wound was wide, oozing blood. Darcy's eyes watered when she saw something sticking out of the deep abrasion in his fair skin.

It was quite a big shard of something that looked like a piece of crystal. A sharp, thin piece that glinted in the light. Darcy swore colors of rainbow pulsed inside it. Like electricity.

'Oh my God...' She mouthed as she searched Loki's eyes. He said nothing, looking at the shard inside him with indifferent eyes.

'All this time, you had a piece of - _whatever this is_,' she shook her head 'inside you... and you said nothing?'

'I was not aware of it.' He said simply, shaking his head.

'Does it hurt?'

'Only when I move my body in a certain angle.'

It looked painful beyond words, and Darcy had to unglue her eyes from it.

'Okay.' She breathed '_Okay_, we have to get it out.'

'Calm down, Darcy. You look like a piece of Bifröst is sticking out of your abdomen.' He smiled toothily, making a joke on his own account.

Wide eyes became even wider as she pointed her finger at his wound 'T-That is a piece of the Rainbow bridge?'

'Ah, so you have heard of it!'

'Of course I have!' Darcy said 'But, that's beside the point. We have to get it out or you'll bleed to death.'

'Immortal?' He tilted his head playfully 'Remember?'

She shifted in her spot, ignoring what he said. When Darcy grasped the tip of the crystal shard, it was cold and pulsing. Afraid she will hurt him, Darcy placed her small palm on his firm belly, leaning forward to better observe what she was doing. Her hands shook terribly.

'Be careful,' He murmured softly 'Don't cut yourself.'

And without a word, Darcy looked at Loki, and carefully pulled out the shard out of his body. A vein visibly pulsed in his neck, and on his temple; the pain he felt must have been great – but he said nothing.

When Darcy pulled it out completely, Loki released a tight breath, panting a bit as relief flooded his visage. Darcy couldn't believe how long the shard was.

'And you had this in your body the _entire_ time.' Lifting it to a source of light, Darcy inspected the sharp item with morbid fascination.

'Indeed.' He replied 'I reckon it happened during my fight with Thor.'

After those words left him, Darcy's head snapped up. This was the first time he mentioned his brother.

She once again dipped the towel in the warm water. It felt soothing against her fingers, as Darcy pressed it gently onto his side. Loki grimaced in pain, but said nothing. Diligently and tenderly, Darcy cleaned his wound, catching the blood that poured out of it, erased the dried blood that covered his stomach and side. She was silent, unaware of Loki's green eyes that followed her every move, her every breath.

Suddenly, he felt Darcy's warm fingers brush his skin. Loki inhaled sharply, not used to being touched by a warm hand.

She continued her work.

'You fell awfully silent.' He noted.

Darcy smiled 'You know, some people would pay to witness that.'

When Loki said nothing, Darcy continued 'I tend to talk constantly. Most people find it annoying.'

'Annoying?'

'People don't appreciate sarcasm these days…' Darcy squeezed the bloody water out of the towel.

'I quite enjoy the witty banter.'

'Oh do you, now?'

Placing his hand over his heart, he said deeply 'I may be the god of lies, but this time – I am telling the truth.'

'And how will I know you're not lying right now, while saying you are telling the truth?' Darcy smirked, dipping the towel in the basin. The water slowly turned pink, until it became a deep shade of red. Wiping her hands on a clean towel, she took the first aid kit.

Loki leaned forward more, observing Darcy's fingers. She took a needle and a thread, and turned to him.

'Do you trust me?' Darcy asked him.

Loki stared at her, his expression a puzzle, and then he smiled, and leaned back once again. Darcy took it as a _yes_.

While she sewed his wound, both were silent.

'Am I hurting you?' she asked.

'Only with your cruel words.' He said playfully.

Carefully, Darcy moved the needle through his flesh, treating it as thought it was fine silk. When she finished, Darcy couldn't remember where she discarded her scissors. So, she leaned down, and bit off the loose end with her teeth. Darcy's cheek accidentally brushed Loki's skin when she bended down, and she felt him stiffen.

His skin was freezing, his blood was freezing, everything about him was cold to the touch.

'I'm done.' She smiled proudly at the job well done 'You're going to have a nice scar. Hopefully, you'll think of me whenever you see it.' She winked at him.

The god of lies smiled at her, and averted his eyes to her hands that lay limply in her lap. Her wrists turned a deep shade of blue, and he felt guilt filling him when he thought of how tightly he must have gripped her in his slashing pain.

'Darcy, once again, I am sorry I bruised your fair hands.' He sat up.

Innocently, Darcy looked at him 'Oh, it's okay. I know you were in a lot of pain.'

She knew she must have looked ridiculous, but she couldn't help herself – he was so handsome, his dirty hair so dark, his hawk like eyebrows arched brashly, his eyes so deep – Darcy wanted to get lost inside their emerald labyrinths. His neck was so long, so perfect. Parts of his wide shoulders and firm chest revealed to her, his tunic unbuttoned at the top.

Loki really was _a god_.

Her heart raced when she sensed him move closer to her small sitting form. Well, rather small compared to him.

Without asking for her permission, Loki caught her wrists in his hands and gently squeezed them. His hands were quite large compared to Darcy's, and it seemed he could snatch both of her wrists in his one hand.

'What are you-?' Darcy panicked as she felt the strange pressure of cold flesh.

'Hush.' He closed his eyes, brow furrowing in concentration as he summoned his healing powers. Darcy felt warmth and then coldness. Bringing her wrists closer to his face, Loki blew an icy breath onto them. Darcy bit her lip and waited. When he let go of her, the painful bruises were gone, leaving her flesh pale and clean.

'Thank you!' Darcy breathed with a wide smile. She was literally at the loss of words, and just beamed at him silently after she thanked him.

Loki bowed his head a bit in response, looking tired, but pleased.

'Is there a bath where I could cleanse myself?' he stood up.

'Oh, yeah, sure...' Darcy stuttered a bit as she motioned and told him where to go.

'Will you be able to adjust the water yourself?'

'I believe I shall.' He said, moving gracefully to the white door of the bathroom. Darcy was left confused, staring into the basin filled with the blood of the god of mischief.

...

Loki was in the bathroom for half an hour, and during his absence, Darcy summoned enough will power to cleaned everything. She removed the basin filled with lukewarm bloody water, the red and pink towels. She scrubbed the sofa until it was clean and creamy white, she swept the floors, removing the shards of porcelain, pieces of broken furniture. It was almost 4 o'clock in the afternoon, and she drew the curtains even more. The gloomy day made 4 o'clock look like 8 o'clock in the afternoon. Tiredness crept behind her.

When she finished everything, she could still hear water running in the bathroom, and sighed when she thought of her intriguing guest.

_I hope I won't regret bringing him with me..._

And just as the thought passed through her mind, brushing against the corners of her sanity, she saw a bloodied shard of the Asbru bridge still lying on the floor. Forgotten.

Darcy smiled gently, and picked it up. Walking towards the sink, she washed it from Loki's blood, and wiped it with a rag.

Turning to a small table that Loki didn't destroy _yet_, she placed it there carefully, and walked to the sofa. Unable to stand on her feet, she simply let herself fall onto it, and closed her eyes, breathing deeply. Before she could think of going to her own bed, sleep stole her away, cradling her weary body in firm hands. She fell into the deep blue sea of her dreams, and swam freely, until rest pulled her out and dried her in the warmth of reality.

**AN: The song is Thirteen Senses - Into The Fire. **


	7. Chapter 7

**AN: Hello lovelies! I'm sorry you've been waiting for so long - I went a few days to the sea side, so I was unable to write and publish. I hope you'll enjoy this chapter and for those of you who are anxious for some romance to occur - it will come. Only, I don't want to rush it and ruin it! Trust me, I'm as eager for some good romance as you are, and it will come very soon! Sorry if this chapter is a bit shorter, the next one I plan to write bigger. While I wrote this chapter I listened to following songs: **

**On stranger tides - Pirates of the Caribbean 4 soundtrack**

**Cursed by beauty - 300 soundtrack**

**THANK YOU SO MUCH TO ALL THAT REVIEWED! I appreciate it, really! Keep them coming, and tell me your thoughts!**

**Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Marvel.**

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Chapter 7

A silhouette stood, hunched, leaning onto the tiled wall, brooding and angry, strangled in a thick cloud of steam that rose from the hot water. It hissed in a burning waterfall of no color. But there was no warmth that could heat the freezing skin of the world's most famous trickster, nothing that could make the ever present coldness go away.

Ever since that faithful night in Jötunheim when that frost giant caught his arm in the middle of the battle, Loki felt the eternal ice inside his soul grow, threatening to swallow him up. Ever since that night, _he has not been the same_.

The sewed up wound on his abdomen stung terribly, the coldness of his flesh fighting battles against the hot spring of Midgardian water, and Loki clenched his fists upon the slippy wall in anger, his knuckles whiter than the tiled wall, his eyes closed tightly as wrath surged once again inside his chest.

He wanted to kill, to murder someone, in hopes his rage will be able to find some sort of release. But nothing happened.

The constant craving, unstoppable thirst for vendetta left him violent and cold. He quivered inside, thinking about _that bastard that called himself his father, that brainless oaf that dared call himself his brother_. All of them deserved agony. All of them deserved his rage. And all of them shall feel it.

_Oh, such liars, such actors._

The masks they carried on their fair faces so repulsive, so false to Loki. _And they call me the god of lies._ They murdered, cheated, lied as much as he did. Gluttony and greed ravished their minds, and Loki was repulsed by their constant hunger for battle, their constant craving for blood. Even the love and affection he felt towards Frigga, the only person he truly loved, started to fade, instead replacing itself with bitter regret and eerily silent wrath.

Loki stared at the white floor, the last drops of pink, red, brown and grey disappeared in the drain, and now, only clean water seeped from him. Slowly, he threaded his long fingers through his wet hair. It fell past his shoulders, longer then he remembered.

_Two months..._

Two months he was falling down the endless pit of the universe. All hope abandoned him, but his raven hair still grew – and now, Loki simply smiled humorlessly at his situation. _I shall ask the mortal for a blade to cut it later..._ he thought to himself.

As though a thunder bolted from the skies, stronger than the one Thor could send, Loki twitched as despair knitted his eyebrows - he realized _the mortal woman_ entered his mind.

_She took me in, treated my wounds, begged me to let her help me... Valhalla why?_

Her dark hair, her playful eyes, her full heart-shaped lips. It all sneaked up on him, so slyly, so subtly. Her intelligence, her wit, her sarcasm, her words... The very things that drew a smile on his face. Loki felt questions building, threatening to tumble onto the fragile fabric of his sanity like a pile of heavy, dusty books. The mortal woman fascinated him – her passion and her knowledge. But most of all, Loki admired her because she didn't judge him, she apologized, and she took _the blame_ for their heated fight.

_Strange girl..._ Loki mused, smirking, as he walked out of the shower and adjusted the navy blue towel on his hips. Turning around, he searched for some type of Midgardian garment he could cover his bare body with – but found nothing. Sighing in frustration, Loki realized his tunic was dirty, and there was not much use in clothing himself in something torn and bloody. At least his trousers seemed clean enough for him to put them on. Quickly, he pulled the dark trousers on his long legs, and decided to seek for a shirt.

His hair still dripping water droplets from the raven black ends, Loki walked out of the cloudy bathroom, and into the hall. He listened carefully for a sound, but nothing greeted hie ears. Outside, twilight was falling softly, and he felt rested. Still searching for clothes, Loki walked inside the first room on his left.

It seemed the chamber belonged to a woman, and he didn't have to think twice to realize he was standing in Darcy's room. Pictures and framed posters adorned the walls, pale blue curtains swaying from the breeze that flew in from a slightly opened window. The walls were light green, her bed unmade and her clothes thrown around carelessly.

_She smiled playfully 'I'm not a lady. Never was, never will be.'_

Loki smiled at the memory of their conversation. 'And so it seems...' he told no one. Loki walked to her bed, and realized he stepped on something; bending down, he realized it was a strange garment, quite similar to corsets women in Asgard wore underneath their dresses, only smaller and probably made only for – As Loki realized what it was, a dirty smile creeped on his face, as the garment dangled on his forefinger and he inspected the cups sewn from lush black lace.

After a few seconds, he threw it softly onto the bed, and stepped closer to the desk. Upon it was a work-lamp, lots of papers, and piles upon piles of books. Thin, thick, old, new, black, white, colorful, dusty, freshly printed. And just as he was about to reach for the thick black one on the top – he heard a voice coming from the living room area.

A serious expression fell upon his handsome face, as he whipped around, and walked with quick steps in the direction of the voice. The closer he came to the living room, and just as he was about to round the corner, Loki slowed his steps, making them ghost-like and silent. The water still dripped from his hair and bare upper body, leaving a wet trail.

_The shard of Bifrost, a cracked wall and a sleeping woman_ greeted him.

Darcy was lying on the sofa, all stains gone, the debris from Loki's anger cleaned up. She was curled like a small ball, her glasses crooked upon her prominent nose, her hair spilling like chocolate, creating a halo around her pale face. It seemed she was dreaming intensely. Every now and then, she would stir, twitch and kick her leg, as it attempting to shake something off of her.

Like a sly devil he was, Loki walked around the sofa, watching Darcy like she was his prey, a small prey, unaware of a predator watching, listening to her every breath. Every now and then, she would murmur something incomprehensible, rolling back and forth. Loki smiled, as a cunning idea entered his mind – he was very curious, and needed to feed on his desire to know, to see, to feel exactly what was it that made his mortal so uneasy.

Loki stood before Darcy, and inhaled sharply, closing his eyes. Placing two fingers on his temple, he breathed once again through his mouth and as if he was preparing to jump from a mountain. Softly, Loki knelt down next to the sofa, and reaching, pressed his palm over the top of Darcy's hand. He felt the wind blowing from every crack and gap, breezing along his wet, bare skin, but it made no difference. He still felt only cold, each breath he took was as freezing as the top of the iceberg.

Being extremely careful, Loki parted the white curtains of Darcy's sleeping mind, and stepped inside her dreams, jumping into the ocean of her subconscious, swimming freely and without fear inside the uncharted waters of the mortal's woman sanity.

...

Night was the first thing he noticed. Loud music was screaming from a large auditorium in the middle of a grass court surrounded by a large building, the beat of the Midgardian music strong and uncomfortable upon Loki's ears, and he was left amazed at the intensity of Darcy's dreams. He formed on a courtyard, a curious observer, a silent spectator, eager but patient – awaiting for a spectacle. A big tree, it's canopy thick and wide was his only company as he waited in it's comfortable shadow.

Even while in Darcy's head, Loki sensed a faint touch of guilt creeping up behind him. Alas, he couldn't help himself – his curiosity got the best of him, and he needed to see.

'Stop!' Loki heard someone yell, and turned to see two people walking out of the large door of the assembly hall. One was a young man, his dark blonde hair tousled and blue eyes smiling. He was quite tall, but paled in comparison if placed next to the god of mischief. He was dressed formally, in a dark suit and a crisp white shirt that was unbuttoned on top. His large hands were stretched wide in mock indignation.

But everything seemed to have stopped moving, even inside the mortal's dream, when Loki's green eyes turned to the other person that quickly walked away from the young man.

Her dark brown hair was curled and pinned on top of her head in an elegant bun, a few silky dark curls falling over her pale clavicles, framing her white face lovingly. Long wavy navy blue silk fell to the floor, flopping around the young woman's legs, tight around her elegant waist. The only thing that seemed strange about the young woman was her crying eyes rimmed with spilled mascara, her dark eyes sad and angry, blood red lips pulled back to reveal white teeth as she hissed profanities to the green grass she stepped upon, trying to run away from the man following her.

'Babe! Stop! Come on Darcy!' the man yelled, his lips curling back in barely suppressed laughter 'It was just a bit of fun!'

_And so the mortal is dreaming a memory..._

The sentence seemed to have turn Darcy's black heeled feet turn to lead, as she turned slowly, and dangerously, sending death glares at the man. The mock, arrogant grin fell from his pretty face as he caught the look she gave him.

'A bit of fun?' she said with a sudden burst of mock laughter 'A bit of fucking fun!' she screamed this time. Then she stomped back at his direction, her finger pointed at him, and as she came face to face with him, she jabbed it inside his chest with every next word.

'You really think I'm that stupid? _For months_ people have been telling me you were secretly seeing her! For months, Marc!' she sobbed 'And I told them they were lying! I thought they were just jealous and said those things to hurt me! But it's you Marc-' she let her arm fall down '-who's hurting me the most!'

'Darcy, babe-'

'No! You shut up now!' she roared at him 'It's my fucking turn to speak! I gave you everything! _Everything_, Marc! Even when I didn't want to do it! And you used me! You fucking used me!'

'Oh, come on, Darcy! You knew it was going to happen sooner or later!' he smiled, as he stepped up to her, placing his hands on her shoulders 'Don't tell me you didn't like it-'

He didn't finish his sentence, as Darcy's hand flew and slapped him across the cheek hard, and from Darcy's eyes tears ran like rain. The smoky grey clouds filled her chest.

Loki smirked at the scene, a surge of pride swelling up inside him at Darcy's appropriate reaction to this foolish arrogant boy that, for some reason, reminded Loki so much of Thor, he wanted to spit on the floor in anger.

But then, something happened, Loki did not find amusing. Not one bit.

The boy, Marc was his name, whipped his head back after the impact, and rising his heavy hand, _slapped Darcy back_. He did it three times harder, because the slap knocked Darcy off her already shaky feet, and onto the cold ground. She caught her red cheek inside her hot palms, and with fear looked up at Marc in shock and disbelief.

'You are _pathetic_, Darcy...' he sniffed, smirking disgustingly, as he reached for his pocket and fished his cigarettes out. Crouching down in front of her scared, now curled form, he lighted one cigarette up, and blowing the smoke into Darcy's face, looked down at her, smiling gruesomely.

'You are a _stupid, lonely little girl_.' Marc drew smoke from the smelly cigarette, wiping his nose with the back of his hand 'I suggest you return to your books and imagination, and leave the real world to those who can handle it.'

Darcy sniffed sadly, still clinging onto her hurt cheek. 'You will never touch me again.' She whispered brokenly.

'You got it, babe! Now, I have to get back to a _real _woman. _She's_ probably waiting, and I'd hate to see her _alone_.'

The last word Marc hissed was the last dagger inside Darcy's gut, as she turned back, and curling onto the soft grass, choked on her own sobs. Holding her stomach, she cried her eyes out.

'Pathetic...' Marc muttered loud enough for both Loki and Darcy to hear his biting tone.

Loki observed the scene, standing by a tree, the night's sky and stars blurry, a clear indicator he entered someone else's dream. His shoulders were tense as he stared in abhorrence at the young man. Loki loathed the lack of manners and sheer aggression in which he treated Darcy, and felt the tips of his fingers tingling with magic.

_Oh, Valhalla, if only I could blast him away from her._

Loki relished the thought of seeing this pathetic excuse for a man burn in a million small fiery pieces. Unfortunately, inside dreams, Loki was as hopeless as a mere mortal, his powers not existing inside one's subconscious.

Once the courtyard was completely empty, Loki breathed deeply, and slowly walked towards Darcy's curled up form. Loki sensed the building in front of him, the auditorium, the tree and the night's sky twisting, a whirlpool of broken melodies, voices, blurry stars and teary eyes creating a tornado around them. Slowly, it closed in on them...

_Darcy's was waking up._

His raven hair, and leather tunic whipping around him, Loki crouched down next to her before the whirlpool swallowed them. In the midst of indescribable gusts of wind, Loki reached out as gently as he could, and removed a silky curl behind Darcy's ear, his large hand and long spidery fingers lingering upon her hot cheek longer than he initially intended.

_After all, it is only a dream..._

The tips of his cold fingers still ghostly touching Darcy's cheek, the wind caught their bodies and sucked them in, catapulting them back to hard reality.

...

When Loki opened his eyes, he was greeted by her shocked face. He found himself sitting on the edge of the sofa, his shirtless lean figure hunched over Darcy's resting form. One arm propped on the other side of her body, the fingers of the other hand still upon her blushing cheek.

'_What are you doing?_' Darcy whispered urgently, her lips parted.

He knew entering Darcy's mind without her permission was wrong. The power of his mind intertwining with unconscious one was one of the toughest pieces of magic he learned all those centuries ago, and Darcy's mind was, indeed, one of the rare ones Loki did venture in.

The trickster knew it all to well – Darcy's mind was bare and parted. The very pages of her sanity's pale parchment were completely vulnerable under the hanging drop of death black ink of his godly powers.

Loki played with fire, completely aware of the consequences, and he _liked _it. Liked the thrill, the magic, the danger of it all. However, there was a part of the game Loki feared, and that was the small question that was written on the card he was yet to open – _why did he like it so much?_


	8. Chapter 8

**AN: I present you the brand new chapter. I'm really happy with this one. I hope you'll like it. THANK YOU TO ALL THAT REVIEWED. I'll update as soon as possible. Leave reviews, please! Your opinion and thoughts are what I hope to receive, and they truly are one of the reasons I write this! Enjoy and I'm sorry if there are any grammar mistakes. **

**While I wrote this I listened to following songs, in that order (and the second song on repeat), type it like that to you tube:**

**Assassin's Creed Soundtrack - Ezio's Family HD **

**300 Soundtrack - 24 Message For The Queen **

**Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Marvel.**

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Chapter 8

_What are you doing?_

The unexpected question echoed in Loki's mind and he was unsure of how to answer. The silver tongue this time really turned to lead. Darcy was lying under him, petrified, with wide eyes, purple bags of tiredness resting heavily under her brown eyes.

Loki once again turned his attention to her slightly parted lips, and his eyes reduced to slits as he stared at them, feeling the urge to...

Loki quickly stood up and took a step back, his tall form still glistening with water.

'You'll have to excuse my terrible lack of clothing...' he said, fidgeting in place 'My clothing was bloody, and I wish not to taint your furniture.'

Darcy still stared at him, and with pleasure, Loki noticed her brown eyes seemed to be inspecting every inch of his torso.

'Do you have anything I could clothe myself in?'

'Y-yeah.' Darcy couldn't stop staring in his bare upper body, as she sat up nervously, her heart furiously throwing itself against her ribcage. His raven hair seemed even darker, water droplets falling from the tips that reached his shoulders. White as snow, wet and tense were his pale shoulders, long lean arms, wide chest. She felt shaky, the dream she had more than strange.

Darcy felt strangely naked, bare, as though stripped from within, like the core of a flower missing its petals. When loki followed her gaze, he smirked, self satisfied, as he realized her uneasiness was because of him. A blush creeped up on Darcy's cheeks as she averted her eyes to the ground in shame.

'I guess I can try to find something.' She said, her eyebrows knitted, and Loki noticed her palm went up and rested on the same cheek that got slapped inside her dream. Loki smirk fell. For a few seconds Darcy just sat there, looking into distance, her small fingertips brushing against her pale cheek. It seemed she tried to remember something, but couldn't.

'Are you alright, Darcy?' Loki asked, and as though someone shook her from her sleep again, she flinched and looked up at him fearfully.

'I don't know.' She answered honestly. 'I _really_ don't know.'

And as Darcy stood up to get Loki some clothes, nausea pulsed through her body, clouding her mind and blurring her already sleepy vision.

The mortal swayed on her spot, her hands jumping up to catch her head, as she yelped in pain, feeling like the very ground she stood on shook, deliberately trying to make her fall.

Loki suddenly felt a tug in his chest, and concern filled him. It seemed his intrusion was too much for her delicate mind to handle. Next came guilt. _You fool, of course it was too much for her to handle..._

'Darcy-' Loki stretched his arms in front of him, trying to steady her swaying form.

'Oh God-' Darcy yelped, her eyes closed tightly as pain filled her head. 'I think I'm gonna throw up-' she said as she searched for something to lean on.

Loki's body reacted more quickly than his brain, and this time, he stepped closer, steadying Darcy by catching her shoulders in his big hands. He saw Darcy's closed eyes relax, and her head bobbed from side to side. All color drained from her face.

_She is really loosing consciousness!_

Darcy went limp in Loki's grasp, and as she fell forward, Loki managed to catch her. Keeping his arm around her shoulders, Loki cradled her in his arms and placed onto the sofa once again. As he lowered her down, he brushed her hair behind her ear, just like he did in her dreams, and freely let his palm linger upon her soft cheek, his thumb stoking her pale cheekbone. A slight smile showed on his face, as he leaned down, and pressed his nose inside her messy tresses. Breathing deeply, he relished the sweet perfume of her brown locks, nuzzling his nose deeper.

Then, he felt her stir, and turning around, Loki swiftly walked to the kitchen. By the sink, he saw a rag, and dipped it in cool water that flowed from the faucet.

Returning to Darcy's tired, limp form, Loki pressed the rag onto her forehead, moving her lovely locks aside. Then, Loki closed his emerald eyes, and murmured something in a distant old Asgardian dialect. Summoning a spell, he blew breath upon Darcy's tired face, and the freezing gush of his eternal soul's air flew, returning Darcy back to reality.

'Darcy?' Loki said, his deep velvety voice helping her wake up. And, finally, Darcy's eyes fluttered open.

'Where am I? What's going on?' she said deeply, looking around scared.

'Hush.' He said, his long finger brushing her jawline. 'You fainted.' Loki felt as though Laufey's freezing fist gripped his heart, the sensations that pulsed through his body strange and uninvited.

'_Someone was inside my head._' Her voice cracked as she confessed her fears. 'Were _you_ inside my head?

Darcy sat up, fatigue gripping her again, but she fought back '_Were you _inside my head?'

Loki leaned away from her, a shadow falling over him. He was silent.

'Tell me.' her voice was desperate, as she agonizingly tried to clear the fog inside her head. 'For the love of God, _please_, tell me!'

A tense pause occurred, desperate brown eyes penetrating the immortal green gaze of the god of mischief, until he finally gave in.

'Yes.' Loki swallowed the blame he felt.

Darcy's eyes fluttered, as a tear fell from the corner of her left eye. With trembling lips, she asked, trying with all her might to figure him out 'W-why? Why would you do that? That's terrible!' she shook with anger 'How would you feel if someone walked inside you while you-' she stopped, as she remembered her dream.

'You saw-' she stuttered, her hand over her mouth. 'No one was supposed to see that-'

Loki saw the worst memory of her entire life. The moment she felt betrayed, rejected, ridiculed and empty. The moment she and Marc were done – after two years. Two years of lying, two years of trickery. And the first and last moment a person hit Darcy – all in one painful dream.

Embarrassed beyond words was how Darcy felt in that moment.

Unable to form words, her _dignity and pride_ thrown onto the bloody ground, Darcy placed her small palms over her red face and wept. Curling into a small ball, she buried her humiliated visage inside her knees and sobbed, her white knuckles shaking as she tried to hug herself tightly.

If there was one thing Loki rarely encountered, than it would most certainly be _uncertainty_. The trickster always knew how to react, and few things could catch him off guard, or surprise him.

But it seemed some higher force had other intentions, and for the first time after one millennium, Loki didn't know what to do.

Darcy started rocking back and forth, all of her sadness running out of her, violently and forcefully.

'Darcy-' Loki started, not knowing what to say. A broken, choked out sob was all he got as an answer. Then, Loki realized words meant nothing in this kind of situation.

Sitting beside her without a sound, Loki slipped his arm around Darcy's shoulder, and firmly pulled her to him. Her entire body, now a curled ball of tears, clung onto him. Darcy held onto Loki for dear life, unable to form words, her face was buried inside his chest, and in any other situation, she would blush madly, probably be worried if he felt discomfort.

But right now, sadness was too big for Darcy to feel anything but profound need to be comforted. And Loki did just that. Gently, he held her close to him, feeling strange beyond words. In his life, there were hardly any situations in which he needed to comfort someone. Almost none.

Underneath all of that strange sensation, Loki felt a surge of possessiveness, a need to protect, an urge to comfort and shield this mortal woman. He felt it harder than ever, and instantly, his arms tightened around her, her head tucked under his chin, as he hushed her crying.

_'I do not have to prove anything to you - a pathetic, silly little girl !'_

Loki remembered the terrifying screams of their fight, and the cruel words he spat at her in his moment of rage. The words so painfully similar to those Marc said to Darcy.

_'You are a stupid, lonely little girl.' Marc drew smoke from the smelly cigarette..._

A clear frown fell upon Loki's face, anger and guilt scrunching his brow, and he breathed deeply.

The veil of hot tears slowly lifted, and Darcy felt Loki breathe deeply, the steady _thump_ of his heart giving her more comfort than she expected to receive.

'I am _so_ sorry.' He said softly, whispering to her hair, the _genuine _words meant only for her ears. 'It was wrong of me to enter your mind without your permission.' He sighed.

Darcy fell silent, a lost sob shaking her body every now and then, but otherwise, she lay limp in his arms. Loki's strong arms never loosened their grip on mortal woman's body that was pressed against his tall form.

'I admit I have seen the dream.' He started. Darcy didn't stop him, so he continued. The soothing murmur of his deep voice made Darcy shiver in anticipation and comfort. She needed to hear him speak.

'I have seen it clear as I now see you. And there is no reason for you to feel humiliated, Darcy.' He spoke, looking in front of himself, as Darcy's cheek now rested on his shoulder.

'That boy...' Loki started, trying not to grit his teeth while he spoke of the young arrogant man that reminded him of Thor. 'That foolish boy made the biggest mistake of his small miserable life when he touched you.'

There was a short silence.

'Women should be treated differently.' Loki sighed, closing his eyes 'And I now understand what you meant when you said mortals remained primitive even after all these years.'

Darcy lifted her head to look at him, his noble face so handsome, looking down at her.

'He is the pathetic one, Darcy' Loki said seriously, grave expression on his face. '_And he shall be punished for how he treated you._' Slightly, his lips quivered as he said the words avidly.

Never in her life has Darcy felt so attracted to a man, to the words that leaked from his silver lips, to the powerful grip of his strong arms, to the comfort and passion he offered her with every look of his green eyes.

_And they knew each other for barely two days._

'_Loki_...' Darcy started, placing her palm on his chest softly.

That moment was the first time Darcy said his name out loud. And Loki felt as though Heimdall pushed him into the eternal light of the Bifrost, and he flew without restraint into everlasting freedom.

How beautiful it sounded coming from her red lips. For a whole eternity his voice has been shouted, screamed in rage, yelled in passion, pleaded, praised, cursed, beseeched, whispered... But never has his name been uttered so deeply, so uniquely.

Frozen heart skipped a beat as Loki breathed more deeply, his cold skin flamed by Darcy's small palm that rested to daintily on his chest.

_Lady Darcy... _The mortal's face was all the God saw in his high mind. Adrenaline surged inside Loki's body, his hands unbinding themselves from her body, only to grip her upper arms, and shifting Darcy's smaller body, so she almost sat completely inside his lap.

Slowly, Loki's arms trailed up, gently tracing Darcy's bare delicate shoulders, then softly around her neck, until they arrived to their final destination. With large cold palms, Loki cupped Darcy's face, holding her head like a precious diamond, as though he scooped the healing waters in his hands and paid attention not to let it slip from his fingers.

'_Darcy_-' he started, deep voice growling and she looked at him with desperate brown eyes, slightly parted lips that just _begged_ to be kissed.

Their heated breathing was all that could be heard as they stood breath to passionate breath, so close yet so far. Loki's chest heaved with indescribable passion, Darcy's knees felt weak, even though she wasn't standing.

Desire swam in Loki's eyes, hunger pulsed though Darcy's orbs, as their faces came closer and closer together.

'Loki...' she repeated the name of the god of mischief, out of pure need for him, as her eyes fluttered closed. Feeling one of Loki's hands slipping from her cheek, Darcy felt it moving to grip her around her waist, trying to pull her even closer. In return, Darcy placed both of her hands around his bare shoulders, and then up to wrap around his beautiful neck.

Their eager lips only seconds apart, a loud boom echoed from outside their doors as heavy car doors were violently closed. Not two seconds later, heavy banging vibrated on the front door and the passion the god and mortal needed to express was suddenly halted.

**AN: Don't hate me for this abrupt ending! It's more exciting this way :) :)**


	9. Chapter 9

**AN: Dear Lord, I am quick these days! :) Thank you for the reviews! Keep them coming! While I wrote this chapter I listened to the following song (type to you tube): Olafur Arnalds - ...Og Lengra**

**Lovelies... enjoy :D :D**

**Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Marvel.**

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Chapter 9

After the irritating noise reached their ears, hungry lips were _denied_ their treat. Baring his teeth in frustration at the ruined moment, Loki let his head fall back as he looked in exasperation to the heavens, his pale neck revealed to Darcy's bloodshot, tired eyes.

Another violent knock could be heard from the other side of the big door. Loud talking and the sound of walkies-talkies cutting the comfortable silence of the windy evening in Puent Antiguo. Darcy was at least thankful for the curtains that blocked them for prying eyes. She just let her forehead fall to the Loki's chest and she closed her eyes, sighing.

'Open up! Or we are coming in!' came a booming threat.

Darcy snapped her head up in panic and searched Loki's face. 'Just a second!' she yelled.

'Who could-' Loki murmured lowly, his eyes reduced to slits as he glared piercingly at the door.

'I don't know.' Darcy said urgently 'But you need to hide.'

Hissing the words to him, Darcy untangled her tired limbs from Loki's comforting embrace and walked back and forth, trying to think of where to hide him. She stepped frantically, her fingers in her hair. 'Whoever it is... I-I'm not sure they are supposed to see you...'

Another banging on the door, this time more aggressive. 'Last warning... Open up!'

Darcy shivered from fear, her heart hammering violently inside her as she caught his long forearm, whispering quickly 'Come here!'

Loki stopped her from quivering by catching her wrists inside his hands. '_Just open the door, Darcy._' He smirked, not bothered by the people threatening tu burst inside at any second. 'And let me handle the rest.'

'Okay.' Darcy sighed, closing her eyes '_Okay_.' Loki's thumb brushed her tired cheek as he smirked. Inside his green eyes was a very clear promise – _We are not done yet_.

At last, Darcy managed to steady her violently beating heart, and breathed deeply. Turning her back to Loki, Darcy felt adrenaline pulsing through her body. Catching a blanket that lay on a lone chair in the left corner of the big room, she wrapped herself in it, trying to appear as though she was woken up in the middle of her deep sleep.

'_We're coming in!_'

With her right hand, she messed her hair up more, and pulled on her best _bitch face_. Swiftly, she walked to the door, and opened it up just as three man all clad in black tried to get inside. All of them wore black glasses, which Darcy thought was ridiculous, considering the night has almost completely fallen.

'There's _no need_ for breaking down the doors.' She murmured, acting sleepy and annoyed. Inside, she was strangled with fear.

'Miss Lewis?' In front of the three men stepped the all familiar face of none other than Agent Coulson.

'Agent...' she nodded her head at him, surprised to see him 'How may I help you?' Darcy's brown orbs seemed to jump around the street, as she observed if there were any curious people watching the commotion in front of the glass house.

'Yes,' Coulson smiled slightly, his poker face untouched 'We believe you can, Miss Lewis.'

Darcy just stared at him, her lips pursed slightly, a brash expression covering her visage. She had a _I-am-waiting_ look about her. Darcy recalled the last time she encountered SHIELD. It was not overly pleasant. They took all the equipment Jane worked with and caused Eric a lot of stress. It was only after Thor agreed to become the ally of SHIELD did they return their equipment. _And my iPod..._ Darcy thought distantly.

'You are Miss Foster's co-worker, am I right?' he said pocketing his glasses, and without being invited he brushed beside Darcy, stepping inside the house.

'Um...' Darcy observed this quite rude intrusion 'Not anymore.'

That made Coulson turn around and face her. More men walked inside and Darcy didn't even have time to blink – they were already walking around, clicking on their guns and inspecting every corner.

'Why is that?' inquired Coulson, checking his mobile phone quickly.

'I believe that's none of your business.' Darcy said as she tightened the blanked around her bare shoulders.

'If the information is important for SHIELD it is most certainly _my_ business.' Coulson said abruptly, the slight smile still on his face.

Darcy hated his expression.

'We got in a fight. Besides, she and Erik Selvig left.' Darcy said coldly 'I believe it was _you_ who has sent Foster and Selvig away to do some research in Norway. Tromsø, right?'

Coulson nodded reluctantly.

'We were informed that 48 hours ago a storm hit the desert just outside Puent Antiguo. The activity was similar to the one two months ago when Thor landed in New Mexico.'

Darcy's eyes remained passive, but inside, the storm greater than the one Coulson spoke of, rummaged her brain.

'We were also informed you were seen dragging a seemingly wounded person inside this house.' Corners of Coulson's mouth lifted, even though nothing seemed to be funny in that moment. 'Who is he?'

Darcy too cracked a grin. A pinkish tint that used to be a pool of Loki's blood she was unable to wash still tainted the creamy sofa, catching her eye.

'I have no idea what you're talking about.' She said smoothly, putting down the blanket on the sofa, covering the stain.

'There isn't much use in lying to use, Miss Lewis.' Coulson continued. 'Our source of _that_ particular information never lies.' Coulson replied brusquely.

'Who informed you?' Darcy gave in.

'The cameras.' Coulson replied bluntly.

As though a thunder bolted through Darcy, anger welled up inside her. 'You had this entire premise under surveillance ?' Darcy almost yelled, pointing her finger at the door.

'Yes.' He answered simply, but underneath all that coldness lay a self-satisfied smirk that Darcy absolutely despised.

'How could you?' Darcy yelled. 'That's unethical! Completely immoral!'

'_Now, now_, Miss Lewis.' He said ' Video surveillance in a completely common thing.'

'Yes it is! But only after you inform or notify, or at least let people know you are filming them!' she yelled frantically.

_The nerve of SHIELD!_

'Who are you hiding, Miss Lewis?'

'I already told you – no one's here but me.' She sighed, exasperated. 'Search the house if you want...' Darcy knew encouraging them was a bad idea, but still she just needed them to believe her and leave.

'Where is he? Who is he?' Coulson persisted.

'I'm not telling you anything. Besides, you have it all on tape, so you must have _all_ the answers.' Darcy sat onto the sofa, crossing her arms defiantly over her chest. Coldness engulfed her suddenly. She _was_ wearing only a tank top, but still, this sudden gush of cold wind was a strange occurrence. Looking over her left shoulder, Darcy subtly checked if Loki's helmet was lying down as they left it.

It was gone... Loki really _did_ take care of everything.

Coulson slightly leaned back onto the dining table, adjusting his dark suit. 'The tape was disrupted after a few hours. And these types of cameras have no sound.'

_This time, power surged inside Loki, the one he did not wish to summon while on Midgard, and it fluttered around him, tampering and teasing the poor Midgardian electric system. The lights in the lamps fluttered above their heads as though they will burn out at any second._

'That's why we came for answers. We were hoping you would be willing to cooperate.' He said evenly.

'But you're not getting any!' Darcy smirked humorlessly, almost snorting in sarcasm 'You filmed me without my knowledge. I'm not telling you anything.'

'Miss Lewis...' Coulson became very serious 'This is the matter of national security.'

Darcy only stared at him angrily, not giving anything away.

'It would be _wise_ if you cooperated.' He nodded slightly.

'Do I sense a threat coming, agent Coulson?' Darcy said coldly.

Once again, Coulson fished out his mask of cold passiveness '_Maybe_.'

'Well, let me put it this way...' Darcy said, standing up. 'I am no longer involved in anything concerning Jane Foster or Erik Selvig.'

'You were present the moment Thor landed on Earth. You can not escape from that. You will always be involved Miss Lewis. This is not a debate club in high school. You can not just drop out of it whenever you like.' Coulson murmured, exchanging looks with his colleagues as they slowly started to exit the house.

'I never asked to be involved.' Darcy said.

'_Well_... None of us ask for it, Miss Lewis. It just happens.' Coulson took his sunglasses out of his front pocket. 'I just hope you realize you're making a mistake here.'

'_Well_... Even the best of us make mistakes.' Darcy mimicked his sentence, gazing at the men that exited the house. She checked if they took anything. Their hands carried only their weapons.

'You deserve nothing from me.' She said coldly. 'And you're getting nothing.'

As though he didn't hear her sentence, Coulson continued.

'I also hope you realize that by not telling us, you choose _a side_.'

A tense silence fell as the last man exited the house.

'A side?' Darcy laughed humorlessly 'What is this? War?'

Coulson's face fell. 'You may laugh now, Miss Lewis, but you wouldn't believe what goes on in front of you.'

'I'm going to tell you just this...' Coulson placed the glasses on the bridge of his nose 'We have our doubts about _who_ you spend your time with. We're not _certain_ yet, but we will find out eventually.'

Darcy only stared after him, eyebrows knitted, lips parted.

'We always find out, Miss Lewis, it's only a matter of time. Have a good night.'

With that Coulson turned on his heel, and walked out, leaving Darcy cold and alone, staring after them. They never closed the door, and a gush of desert wind flew inside, making Darcy shiver and close the door immediately.

Slowly, sighing, she leaned her head back, the big nervous breath finally flying past her lips, as she felt relief flooding her.

'Y-You can come out now.' Darcy said trembling slightly.

As though forming in the very air in front of her, Loki appeared, surrounded by a glow of soft blue light.

Darcy noticed, with surprise, he had a black t shirt on. It was amazing, how well it matched his dark Asgardian pants. It was quite tight around his wide shoulders, his hair still dripping wet.

'They left.' Darcy stated. Looking into her hands.

'I helped myself with some clothing while those fools tried to find me.' He smirked, standing in all his high glory in front of Darcy.

'I managed to catch onto some of the conversation you had with that agent.' He said, his thin lips working as he talked, his arms folded in front of him elegantly.

When Darcy said nothing, he continued.

'I thank you...' He said softly, looking at her like a hawk, with a slightly bowed head, stepping closer to her. '...For not telling him.'

Darcy felt her heart hammering once again. The intoxicating perfume the god's body radiated threw Darcy in a trance.

'Yeah, well, he angered me. They are a bunch of cocky schemers, nothing more.'

'I believe there is something more than just spite and malice there, Darcy.' He smirked.

Each time he uttered her name, she felt weak at the knees.

'What do you mean?' she asked, looking up at him shyly. Loki seemed to be getting closer and closer by the second.

'You are growing fond of me, are you not?' he smiled toothily, finally stepping so close to her, he needed to lift her chin up to meet his gaze.

'Well...' Darcy smiled shyly 'I only hope I won't come to regret it.'

'I imagine Asgard would sooner come falling down upon Midgard, than you feeling regret.' The long, pale finger that held Darcy's chin caressed her jawline slowly, stroking it in gentle deep movements.

Darcy was speechless, looking up at the god of mischief timidly. When Darcy tried to move slowly around him, Loki's free hand went up and caught her upper arm in his. Keeping her in place., his grip bruising, but _oh so good_...

'We are not done yet.' This time the trickster voiced his thoughts, making Darcy's heart race.

And slowly, like a shadow, with half-lidded eyes, he leaned down.

**AN: Two in a row, huh? ****Don't hate me too much... **XD Bet you didn't expect that. But have no worries – chapters go quickly and soon you'll get what you want.  



	10. Chapter 10

**AN: My lovelies, thank you for your patience. Here is chapter 10, and I hope this one will compensate for those cruel cliff hangers I left you with. While I wrote this, I listed to Malleus Malleficarum - Da Vinci Code soundtrack (on repeat, it truly is a glorious song). I hope you like it and, please, leave constructive criticism and your thoughts. I appreciate them and re-read them XD THANK YOU TO ALL THAT REVIEWED. I'll try to answer your reviews. I'm sorry if there are any grammar mistakes. Enjoy!**

**Diclaimer: Everything belongs to Marvel.**

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Chapter 10

_Asgard, two centuries ago._

Rain pounded heavily from the heavens. It fell down, heavy and full of pain. Skies of steel fluttered above Asgard first time after one millennia, hiding the great cope of universe, shielding the stars and nebula from the desperate looks of Aesir.

That day was the one of mourning.

The palaces, the majestic courts, the grand halls, streets, rivers, lakes mountains. All fell silent in honor of their fallen prince, brother, son and warrior. It was the morning after Baldr died, mysteriously and quietly. Not in the rage of battle, not followed by a war cry, not from age, and not from love.

He was murdered. And the enigma wrapped itself around everyone, because none knew who did it.

In the royal chambers sat Odin. He held his old head inside his hands, his wrinkled brow tired, his eyes bloodshot and desperate. Frigga paced in front of him restlessly, shaking as she stomped. Back and forth, back and forth. Her golden dress shimmered and rustled, her golden head bowed down, her white hands clenched together in front of her.

None spoke. Until someone walked in. The door burst open as Thor practically ran inside, his hair windblown, hammer inside his tight fist, his face flushed and shining from rain. Frigga stopped pacing, and turned to meet him.

'Father…' he stepped forwards, eager and worried '… we need to speak.'

It seemed Odin didn't hear a word Thor said, nor did he acknowledge his presence, for he continued to stare to the floor.

'Oh my son…' Frigga choked brokenly, as she stepped closer to Thor, and with a gentle motherly hand, she reached and cupped the side of Thor's bearded face. 'Your father is tired.' She sniffed loudly. 'You shall speak tomorrow.'

Ignoring his mother's words, Thor stepped even closer to Odin's throne and fell to his knees. His mighty hammer soon followed, and the room echoed after the impact. The noise woke Odin from his daydream. Not waiting for his permission, Thor spoke.

'Loki is missing.'

Frigga stopped, shock written all over her beautiful face. '_What?_'

'I tried to find him. He is not in his chambers, not in the garden, not anywhere.' Thor said, his eyebrows knitted in worry, as he looked at his father pleadingly.

'Father, I beg for your permission…' Thor said '…let me speak to Heimdall. He shall be able to tell where Loki is.'

'No.' Odin gave a short and cold answer.

'Then _you_ speak to Heimdall.' Thor suggested, reaching with his hand,

'No.' The All father repeated. His tone had a cutting edge to it. Frigga now gazed at her husband as though he struck her across her royal face.

'My king-' , 'Father-' Both Thor and Frigga started, begging him, only their voices were cut as Odin growled loudly 'I said no!' And he stood from the throne, restless and angry.

None of them spoke for a long while. Thor stood up, and walked to his mothers side. Frigga clenched her stomach, looking worried beyond words. Leaning onto him, with great tears in her eyes, the high Queen spoke. This time, no one interrupted her.

'Odin…' she started slowly '… you lost your youngest son last night. _I…'_ Frigga drew a shuddering breath '…lost my youngest son last night.' Odin just looked at his wife, his fists clenched at his sides, tears streaming from his one good eye.

'Help us find Loki.' she whispered, as tears welled up 'Valhalla! Let us not lose our second son. Let us not lose Loki.' She openly sobbed now. 'Send help, with all haste! Find Loki! Please.'

Odin did not move, Odin did not speak. He merely stared at his wife, his lush armor glinting as the fire cracked next to him, warming them as slippery chills followed their every move, cold rain soaking their bones, even though the royal family was inside. After silence passed, Frigga broke from her son, and walked swiftly to her king and her eternal love. Like a beggar woman, she dropped to her knees, and Thor had to look somewhere else, not believing his own mother fell at her feet in front of his father.

Like a viper, Frigga caught Odins hand, and clenched it inside her own. 'Odin. Find. Loki.' she clenched through her teeth, sobs escaping her. 'For me.'

Odin gave her a steely glare that matched the sky above them. '_I know he's done it._' Odin snarled angrily, but only loud enough for Frigga to hear him.

'Oh no, no, no.' Frigga shook her head violently. 'We don't know that, we don't know that.' She trembled like a branch as Odin broke his hand out of her grasp. 'I beg of you!' she yelled 'By Yggdrasil, Odin! GET LOKI BACK HERE!'

Thor watched in shock as his parents argued, and a lump formed inside his throat, his vision blurring.

Odin straightened up and declared, as if he spoke to a hall filled with people. 'The sadness we all feel is great, for a great life has been lost.'

The queen sobbed at the floor, unmoving, as Thor looked down at his hammer, feeling as though someone poured molten iron inside his throat.

'And we shall all _suffer_.' Odin declared coldly, through his teeth. 'One way or another.'

Frigga knew what stood behind those words. She knew when he said _suffer_, he did not mean suffering because of sadness. He meant mental torture, physical pain, pushing the boundaries of one's endurance. Pushing it until it breaks.

And in Odin's words, only one person deserved that kind of scourge and retribution.

The rain pounded more violently, engulfing the Realm Eternal in grey depression, and through thunder and lightning screams echoed, blowing in the wind. Far, far away, on a distant shore, roars tore. They tore from the very soul of a man chained on a cold rock like an animal. Accused, punished, left to die.

Loki, indeed, _suffered_, and as the snake wound around the cliff like poison ivy, and the fiery poison dripped from the beasts bared fangs, Loki screamed. Slowly, like a plague, hatred filled him, and it was from that day that his mind fell into shadow, and like a hanging drop of insanity, waited for the earthquake that will make it fall down.

Once it fell down, the beast would be unchained and the shadow he felt would be reflected onto the whole of Nine realms.

...

As Loki's tall glorious form engulfed Darcy in the darkest shadow she ever found herself in, she felt life passing in front of her eyes. Uncertainty and excitement caught her, and for a moment she thought if their lips met - _everything would be different_.

Right now, the world could be ending, meteors could be falling, sea could be drowning the dry desert, Jane and Erik could come banging on her door, yelling to her they have returned. Even SHIELD could come, throwing thousands of questions her way, but she wouldn't care. Not as long as he was there.

Nothing mattered to Darcy at this moment. Nothing but two hungry emerald eyes that made her feel indescribable. It seemed they held a power worthy of their master. With just one dark glance, they were capable of changing everything Darcy ever believed in, with just _one_ look. All her knowledge, all her memories. Everything she ever believed in, stood for, trusted, needed, loved. It all fell apart, because each passing second, he stole more of her away.

Bit by bit, second by second, hour by hour. Darcy Lewis faded, and was completely and utterly _his_.

Darcy shuddered, shame filling her as pictures of her deepest desires flew in front of her eyes, like a frightening old film, rolling in a smoky theatre. Limbs knotted, lips pressed, moans, grunts, whitening knuckles, cold sheets… All balled up inside her, fueled by need, triggered by want.

And at this moment, Darcy was afraid her heart would give up, and stop beating altogether, as Loki's tall shadow fell slowly over her, shielding her from the warm light, bathing her in his godly darkness.

'Loki-' Darcy started, looking up at him, as she pressed her back to the wall, looking like a scared doe, caught in the headlights, or cornered by a predator.

'I'm not sure if this is a good idea-'

_What the hell is wrong with you? You know you want this. Don't let it get away!_ Her heart screamed.

_Yes, Darcy, mother always told you not to play with fire. He got closer than he should, now, tell him to step away._ Her irritatingly rational mind chuckled.

Loki's damp hair was slicked back, one lost tress falling over his forehead, like a black feather. He frowned, as he looked at her, their faces only inches away. Breathing deeply, his frozen heart jumping to his throat, Loki said the next words with such urgency, his voice so deep and so raspy, it made the fight between her mind and heart even harder, as she longed to swallow all of his pent up rage and sadness she knew he held inside.

It poisoned him for far too long.

'Woman…' he growled, desire and need evident in his deep tenor '…_give me your lips_.'

'Wh-' she started shakily, as her glasses felt crooked on the bridge of her prominent nose.

The god of mischief never let her finish. 'I said we are _not_ done yet.' And as if he didn't stand close enough, Loki stepped even closer. 'And I _mean_ it.'

_You will be mine… _

His large spidery hand slid down, touching Darcy's waist lightly, and then he gripped it, as though sensing the struggle inside Darcy, and attempting to shake away the warnings and fears she felt. Loki's other free hand slid from her upper arm, over her shoulder. His pale thumb touched her delicate collar bone, that protruded ever so daintily out of her creamy flesh. Shivers broke all over Darcy as her eyes fluttered for a moment.

The heart was winning.

Loki then moved his palm gently to the back of her neck, holding her like a precious piece of jewelry. Once he had a firm hold on her, Loki gazed deeply into her eyes, smirked and pulling her towards him, instantly covered her lips with his own.

Word could not describe the thirst and hunger that possessed the lips of the god of lies. Famished and needy, they moved feverishly across Darcy's full lips. One second, she was still, and then all her barriers broke down, like a black cloud filled with too much rain. One light that still shined in the back of the dimly lit room trembled under Loki's power. At that moment, Darcy realized, the electricity came not from Loki's rage, but from Loki's _passion_. Like it was going to burn out. It fluttered angrily, matching Darcy's pulse.

It was a breaking point for the mortal woman, as she kissed him back with as much desire, sliding her arms shakily around Loki's neck. Soon, her fingers found his wet hair, and lightly threaded through them, while the god of mischief cradled Darcy's neck in his free hand, the other pressing her curves into his body with a commanding pressure onto her waist. The struggle inside Darcy disappeared like sun behind a cloud, as she moaned her approval. Her hands pulling him in, Darcy stood on her tiptoes as she tried to reach him. Moving his neck lower, Loki drank from Darcy's lips.

The intensity never wavered during their kiss. It only intensified. In one moment of frenzy and heat, Loki grabbed the back of Darcy's thigh in his large hand quite violently,bringing her nearer, possessing her, protecting her, wanting her like he never wanted anyone before. Loki's lips were ice cold, but felt so perfect to Darcy, as she wanted to drown in his tight embrace.

A light bulb couldn't stand so much flickering and tampering, so it exploded loudly, bathing both of them in an intimate darkness.

Finally, after too long, their kissing broke, but only to be transferred elsewhere. Darcy held onto Loki's black t shirt, fisting the garment as she felt Loki's magic pulse inside her, feeding her racing heart. She threw her head back, her dark locks falling over his tightened arm that covered her waist. Loki drew his talented lips over her pale neck, and as he felt her bile speeding up, Darcy felt Loki smiling devilishly into her skin. She moaned his name quite loudly, placing her small palms gently over his chest, in attempts to feel his own heart.

Freely, both of them swam in each others ocean of emotion. They felt no fear, no boundaries. Nothing held them back, and both of them for the first time in their lives felt it. It crawled behind them when they least expected it. It was indescribable, unimaginable, perfect and glorious.

Freedom.

**AN: I hope you liked the kiss ;)**


	11. Chapter 11

**AN: Lovelies, here is a new chapter. I don't know if it's the amount of free time I have on my hands or just the inspiration I got from your lovely reviews - but I have never uploaded this quickly. This is the LONGEST chapter for Ink and Parchment so far, and I hope each next chappie will be as long as this one.**

**Enjoy this one. For maximum experience, I listened to the following songs:**

**Daniel's 9th Cipher - Da Vinci Code soundtrack (for the first part of the story located in Asgard)**

**One day - Pirates of the Carribbean soundtrack (for the second part when we're back on Midgard)**

**Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Marvel.**

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Chapter 11

Night has fallen in Asgard.

A whispering wind passed through the gardens of the royal palace. It breezed along the giant trees, crystal turquoise ponds of cool water, bushes of black and raspberry colored roses, russian red poppies and dark blue carnations. Thick trees rose high, their emerald leaves singing in ecstasy as wind caressed them, their long branches lifted towards the navy sky. Long branches of the sad willow danced silently, gently touching the water. The bright, pure green grass rustled under the black feet that belonged to Odin's bastard son.

Loki straightened up, looking at the ethereal golden walls that reminded him, since he was a child, of tubes. Strong, thick, might pipes that the very wind of the Realm Eternal used as an instrument, snatching it in his large hands and blowing through it. And all who lived inside the palace or outside it could hear the song it sang. Soft, echoing, like the chant of the old.

In the dark hours of the night, when everybody wrapped themselves in silk sheets and pure cotton, Loki strolled through the gardens, his shadow and the song of the old following him.

It was the first time after so many weeks that he decided to walk through the gardens. All those long days, he was wrapped in cotton gauze, covered in herbs and healing plants, his wounds burning with every breath he took. Of course, the physical agony was nothing compared to one he was saved from. The acid like, burning venom that the snake spat on him for weeks seemed to have entered his every pore. Pain still lingered inside him, but only on the surface.

He breathed deeply, his raven hair blowing around his head. When his green pools closed, and his entire body relaxed, he thought he head a loud sigh. Quickly, he snapped his eyes open and looked around him.

Behind a large sad willow, seated on a bench made from carved white stone, was Sif. She wore a blue night dress. It was sheer and flowing, and it made her look like a true goddess. Her back was turned to Loki, so all he saw was the waterfall of her ink black hair - his greatest achievement in magic. It glinted, like black glass, reflecting the stars above her. Breath hitched inside his throat, and he thought twice whether to walk close to her, or to turn around and leave, silent as the grave, swift as shadow.

But it was too late, Loki stepped on a fallen leaf, and it crunched beneath his heavy boot. Sif gasped slightly as she heard someone. The goddess of war turned, and Loki felt his knees buckling as her fierce blue eyes looked at him over her feminine shoulder.

'My apologies, Sif.' Loki straightened up, and placed his hand over his chest, bowing his head a bit. He was all clad in black, only the whiteness of the skin of his neck, face and hands showed, glowing like snow. 'I did not mean to frighten you.'

'Nothing can frighten me, Loki. Not anymore.' she whispered evenly, turning her back to him once again.

Slowly, Loki approached Sif 'May I join you?'

Sif nodded silently.

Smiling slightly, Loki sat down next to her, and propped his elbows on his knees, his spidery fingers intertwining. Subtly, Loki turned to Sif, and observed her profile. It was only then that he realized Sif was _crying_. Like a silent streams of silver, tears dripped down her fair cheeks, but no sobs shook her, no whimpers escaped her. She just stared at the pond in front of her, sighing every now and then. Loki did not know how to ask her, how to inquire or demand from her to tell him what was wrong. Their _relationship, _if one could call it that_,_ was still strange, for Sif never forgave him the night he cut her golden locks, and with them, cut her only hope, her only key in ever getting the god of thunder.

The only connection their shared were the battles, adventures and escapades they ventured in, together with the Warriors Three, Thor _and_ Baldr. For centuries, they fought, played and travelled together, but somehow, Sif and Loki never really got to know each other.

'You might wonder why I am crying.' she said, wiping her cheeks urgently with the back of her hand. It was so strange to see Sif cry. She was a fierce young woman who rarely shed any tears. Mostly smiles and flirtatious glances danced on her fair visage, not tears, not agony.

'Yes.' he admitted, urging her with his tone to continue.

'I'm afraid to speak to _you_ about it.' she said carefully 'For it is about Baldr.'

Loki swallowed thickly, shadow falling over his eyes, despite the evident darkness of the night. With the corner of her blue eye, Sif saw Loki's fists clench and they shook, as if in a fever. She shuddered, her gut twisting like the very snake that brought Loki his greatest punishment not few weeks ago.

'What about him?' he said through slightly clenched teeth, his jaw working.

'I miss him.' she said, aware she was treading on very thin ice, but enjoying the thrill anyway. Sif was, after all, the one who loved danger most.

The words struck Loki harder than he expected, his eyes widening. But this time, Loki said nothing. He turned to the pond in front of him, and observed his reflection. A tired young man stared at him, his eyes rimmed with guilt, his fingers bloody with the death of his younger brother. The wound was still fresh, still has not healed.

_Will it ever heal?_

'Loki-' Sif started with a firm tone, but desperation creeped underneath it all, and Loki heard it. Turning more fully to the god of mischief, Sif drew a shuddering breath '_You must tell me._' And for the first time in a long while, she pressed her warm hands to Loki's cold ones. 'What happened there? What happened when you and Baldr took that other passage in the mountain of Mist?'

Loki swallowed once again, his eyebrows meeting in the middle, until they dropped lower. Anger slowly filled him.

'Loki? _Loki_?' Sif repeated, trying to get him to look at her, 'I must know!'

Asgardian wind blew harder, the sweet perfume of roses dominated by the red hot smell of rage.

'And with what exactly did you _deserve_ that particular information?' he asked, looking at her coldly 'Why should _I_ tell you anything, when all I ever received from you were lies, mistrust and suspicion?'

'I have never-' Sif started, leaning away from him.

'Lied to me?' he snarled, standing up as he started to pace 'Because you did _much more_ than that, Sif.'

'What?' Sif too stood up fiercely, her tears stopped falling, instead, anger and confusion seeped from them.

'You _flutter and blink_ your damned blue eyes whenever you need something for me. For _centuries_, Sif, you have done this. But whenever I require a bit of your care, you _leave_.' he spat 'Don't you realize? I had to cut your _hair_ in order to get your attention! In order to make you more like me! I thought if you were more like me, if you felt what being _different_ meant, you would give. Me. A. Chance!'

Sif stared at him, stunned, as Loki screamed at her.

'Alas, I achieved nothing!' he laughed humorlessly, motioning with his hand 'Once again, you ran after Thor! And now even _Baldr _?'

'Loki, Baldr is dead!' she covered her mouth with her palm 'How dare _you, of all people,_ say something like that?'

'I know he is dead!' This time, scream tore itself from Loki, the wind blowing harder, and the only two raven-haired people in Asgard stood face to face. 'I _know_' he growled 'he is dead. I do not need _you_ to tell me that.'

Silence. But then, Loki's emerald eyes shined dangerously.

'Wait a second.' his sly lips parted, his brow furrowing 'What do you mean, _me_ of all people?'

Next words were spat with such venom, his old burns stung '_Well_,' Sif smirked 'You killed him, did you not?'

Glass broke inside Loki.

'That is why you were punished. That is why you were chained. That is why you suffered-' she screamed at him, her red dress glinting.

'Silence!' Loki roared at her, magic tingling inside his fists, his heart pounding in his head, the need to release his magic on Sif, woman or not, became harder to resist each passing second.

'You-' he pointed his finger at her and it shook as sparks flew out of it '-will NOT speak of the things you know nothing of! That is an order!'

Sif threw her head back, her night hair blowing wildly in the wind, and _laughed out loud_. 'An order? What do you think you are, Loki, a king?' Sif smirked cruelly.

Loki only glared at her, and if in his gaze, he could master a spell strong enough to kill her, Sif would be on the floor, all her immortality drained from her corpse.

'_Thor_ will be a king, he was _born_ to be one. Not _you_.' she spat the words as if disgusted, lifting her chin up '_You_ are nothing but a traitor to Asgard. And a _murderer to your family_.'

In that moment all that Loki felt for Sif - affection, maybe even infatuation, _faded_. Instead, another thick layer of frost wrapped itself around Loki's heart, and his veins pumped more black hatred than crimson blood.

A cold, cutting laughter escaped Loki, his eyes shining dangerously '_Get out._' The Asgardian prince snarled with a demented smile.

'You can not throw me out of the royal garden-'

'GET OUT !' Loki roared like an animal, at her this time, stomping in her direction. Fear instantly filled Sif's eyes and she looked frightened beyond belief, as though cornered by a black army, but missing her blade. Hurriedly, she gathered her skirts and with a last frightened look over her shoulder, ran through the silver gates of the garden.

Once again, in the middle of the night, Loki was left alone. He raged, walking back and forth, his fingers flexing, and he breathed loudly through his nose. And as if he could burst at any moment, unable to control himself, he conjured a razor sharp blade that glowed in the dark and with all his might, threw it to the nearest tree. It slashed through the thick trunk, slicing through it as if through flower petals. The explosion lifted the roots of the old tree, and the grand canopy fell, on the other side, landing in a lonely pond.

_A murderer, a traitor, they call me. _

_Well, one day, they will see what unstoppable murder and true betrayal mean. _

_They will feel the pain I felt. _

_And when they fall, crawling beneath my feet, begging forgiveness, it will be too late._

_They will learn how badly they have wronged me._

_One day..._

…

Darcy's back collided with the wall the second time in two days. Both times she was pushed by a certain god of mischief. This time, however, she met the wall with a small moan, as Loki's palms caught her face, holding it like holy water, as he feverishly caressed her lips with his own. The crack made by Loki's furious fist still graced the white wall, paint slowly breaking and falling off of it, like leaves in the middle of the winter.

He hunched down, catching her fluttery breaths inside his cold throat. Their eyes shut tight, both only listened to each others ragged breathing. Until-

Like a child separated from mother's arms, a voice screamed inside Loki's mind. A bone-chilling alien screech. It tore through his head violently, and he broke from Darcy's lips swiftly with a short cry, his head pulsing with pain for a few moments.

It was only after she felt him tense like a violin string, and move from her eager mouth, did Darcy opened her eyes. A small disappointed sigh threatened to break from her, but when she saw Loki's furrowed brow, surprised eyes and clenched jaw, she swallowed it. Worry filled her.

'What's wrong?' she placed her palm on his shoulder, looking up and studying his face.

'_The Chitauri_…' he breathed, his furrowed brow coated in a sheen of hot sweat that suddenly broke all over him. The trickster looked beside Darcy and into the distance. Eery whistling of the cold desert wind surrounded them, coming from every gap. It flew underneath the door and chilled Darcy's bare feet. Her toes curled.

Darcy moved from the wall, and Loki moved from Darcy. Instantly, she longed for his touch, for their embrace was broken so suddenly. Like someone wounded him, Loki moved to sit onto the sofa, and placed his forehead inside his palm. Hurriedly, Darcy went and kneeled in front of him, now worried more than when she saw a shard of Bifrost inside him.

'Loki, what's happening?' she pressed.

'I have been called.' He breathed deeply, green eyes blank, and he shook his head as if in disbelief 'I did not expect them to call so soon.'

'Them? Who called? Who are these _Chitachi - whatever their name is_?' Panic and confusion filled her at the thought of Loki leaving, and she tumbled over her words, aware she probably said their name wrong.

Loki never answered her. He just breathed loudly.

_Chitauri. The darkest army in the Nine realms. Creatures from a distant world. Ruthless, lifeless, machine-like, merciless beings. _

_Minions of Thanos. Bearer of pain, and the devil whom Loki sought. The one who will help him, the one with whom Loki will make the exchange, the deal that will change their stars, and reverse the course of time._

_The dark army was restless, their shields clattering, their glowing spears sharpened. _

_They were ready._

Nebula of excitement swirled inside Loki's intense gaze. He looked like an eager child who has been promised a big present. Darcy sighed, turned around and walked away from Loki. Kitchen was enveloped in darkness, and Darcy flicked on the small light, adjusting the curtains on the small kitchen window so no one saw them. Now, worry simply faded form Darcy's chest, and she was filled with disappointment.

_It was stupid of me to expect that he will spill his heart and soul to me once we kissed… Darcy Lewis, you need to grow up._

Cold water flew from the faucet, and Darcy noticed something near the sink. Champagne colored marble counter was clean, except for the three drops of crimson blood that probably fell from her fingers when she washed her hands. Loki's blood. Darcy decided to ignore it. And she lifted her glass, brimming with crystal water, drinking it all in one eager gulp, her dry mouth finally getting the invigoration it needed.

When she turned, Loki was still sitting on the sofa, hunched and brooding, his eyes distant, reflecting his troubled thoughts. Deciding it was probably best to leave him alone, Darcy snatched the blanket from the floor, near the cracked wall, on the very spot where their lips first met. With a heavy feel inside her chest, she grabbed two stairs at a time, as she climbed to the terrace.

The so-called _Thinking Roof_.

If Erik, Jane and Darcy had one thing in common, then it was most certainly the love for that particular spot of their temporary home. It was always windy and cool on the top of the glass house. And even during the day, when people bustled and hurried through the small town, the _Thinking Roof_ was engulfed in silence.

Darcy stood for a moment, looking at the empty terrace. Two lone chairs stood near the edge, overlooking Puente Antiguo. A small table that was always had so many papers and science books on its rugged surface now stood empty. Only a bottle of empty Coca Cola rested on the floor, forgotten.

She sighed deeply, memories filling her head, and inside her, a conflict burst, between nostalgia and the new-found fury. Darcy only now realized how her sadness disappeared, and anger filled her.

_How dare they leave me like that. How dare they treat me like a stranger. After all we've been through. How dare they…_

_A _gush of strong wind greeted her, sending her dark, long hair flying wildly around her face, and she clutched the blanket closer to her body. She felt enough coldness today.

Stepping slowly towards the chairs, she sat inside it, and cuddled inside the fluffy blanket. Barely two minutes passed, and with the corner of her eye, Darcy noticed a tall shadow, lurking near the entrance of the terrace.

Her heart instantly sped up, and a small smile graced her lips.

He followed her up.

Silent as the falling dust, Loki sat on the chair beside Darcy. Opening her mouth to say something to him, Darcy was interrupted as a fierce lightning raged on a distant horizon, illuminating the dark desert. A thunder soon followed, loud as breaking glass, and as the storm lashed on the sensitive Earth, thick black clouds lingered over them, like dark mist.

The green of Loki's eyes fell into shadow, as his lips pressed in a thin line. Darcy realized he must have thought of Thor. The myths said Thor was the source of thunder on Earth. It was said that he produced the storms when his emotions ran wild. Good or bad.

'You know…' she smirked, and lightning burst once again '…I tasered Thor.'

'I beg your pardon?' Loki turned, a crease of confusion forming between his hawk-like eyebrows.

Darcy shook her head as a wide toothy smiled stretched on her bright face 'I, kind of, produced a small lightning with a weapon I own. It hit him right in the chest.'

Loki looked at Darcy, the corner of his white thin lip moving up, a devilish smirk welling up. He looked to the distance, glaring at the spot where storm hit Midgard. The night sky pulsed like a vein.

'What happened to him?' he asked evenly, as though he didn't care.

'He fainted.' Darcy smiled, her voice trembling, on the verge of laughter.

Loki chuckled, pleased to hear something so ridiculous happened to Thor. Then, Loki turned his penetrating gaze back at Darcy, glowing with pride. 'You sound as if you are _glad_ you did it.'

'Well, you look as if you are glad to hear it!' Darcy laughed, wiping her glasses on the hem of the fluffy blanket.

'Of course I am.' Loki lifted his eyebrows brashly, flashing her with a charming smile 'That big oaf deserved it.'

Darcy observed him silently. When it came to Thor, Loki was always a closed book. But now, bit by bit, Dracy felt him opening to her. And, dear lord, she _longed_ to read him. It made her feel special, separated from everyone else. She felt like he _chose_ her. The god of mischief chose her - a mortal.

'He is probably showing off.' Loki spat, glaring in the distance, wishing he could catch every single one of those lightnings in a jar, close the lid and step on them, until they burned in the dry ground beneath his feet. 'I suppose the entire court is in the feasting hall, _drowning_ in mead' he spat the words as if disgusted by them 'stuffing the hundredth wild boar inside their _greedy_ mouths.'

Darcy fell silent, curious to hear more.

'Volstagg is probably puffing about his idleheaded heroic ventures. Fandral is likely bragging about the thousandth woman he has bedded. Hogun is silent, pretending to be above everyone else, looking for _traitors_ with his small eyes, when he, himself, has more red on his ledger than anyone else in Asgard.' Then he lifted his chin, preparing his voice for the name of the person he hated the most 'And Thor, as always, _brandishes_ his hammer for everyone to witness his might and glory. Father probably has that idiotic proud grin on his old foolish face. Mother smiles, I reckon, patting Thor on his blasted golden head like a good dog.'

Darcy looked at Loki, curious. Upon her face, there was no shock, no sadness, no outrage; only attention, and understanding. There was no need for sentiments, least of all for the Warriors three or Odin. Darcy knew what they were like, even though Loki claimed Midgardian books were worthless, just like the ignorant authors who wrote them. But Darcy knew there were a few books that spoke the truth. And the mortal woman knew it.

'Foolish idiots. The lot of them.' he spat, looking at the floor, leaning his elbows on his knees, his tall person hunched, but sophisticated at the same time.

Darcy smiled, surprising Loki who observed her with the corner of his eye. She stood up, pulled her chair closer to his, and sat once again. Leaning closer to him, she placed her head onto his shoulder. He tensed.

'Let's not spoil this evening with people who don't deserve it.' she said honestly. Feeling Loki relax, Darcy smiled, and her soul swelled when she felt him slid his long, firm arm around her shoulder, pressing her body closer to his.

'Darcy…' he started, breathing deeply, his long fingers drawing small circles on her upper arm.

'Hmm?' she said, closing her eyes, and cuddling to his embrace.

'You are one curious woman.' She felt him smirk.

For a few seconds, Dracy was at the loss for words.

'Thank you. I'll take that as a compliment.' she said, observing his crossed long legs 'And you are one curious god.'

Loki chuckled loudly, his laughter vibrating through Darcy, and she smiled, endeared, burying her head closer to his chest.

'_Curious, witty, annoying_…' he lifted her chin, slowly, drawing his forefinger over her jawline '_And beautiful._'

Darcy beamed at him, her cheeks flushing. Her ruffled hair and reddish lips enchanting the god of mischief, and he leaned closer. Meeting her uneven, running breaths, he conquered them and covered her lips with his own.

'God or not, I am a man.' he whispered by her lips 'And like any man, I simply can not _resist_ you.'

Thunder cracked once again, louder than the last, and wind blew harder.

'_There are no men like you, Loki._' Darcy whispered with a smile, her eyes half-lidded and only an inch from his own. Then, she stretched her neck higher, and eagerly met his lips.

Fearless, the god and the mortal woman kissed, not caring what the upcoming storm brought in its crashing arms.

**AN: I would specifically like to thank BrazenMonkey (I LOVE YOU and I hope you like this cause it's extra long), Mizra, Noisca (LEMME LOVE YOU),Rammy2010, Chuulip, mskaityjw, stop reading my pen name, ain13. madly9, Jamberine (we have to chat cause it's been too long), Sylin17, Jasmine, Niilan, DGfleetfox, Epoch95, JustQuinn (I appreciate the exclamation mark XD, but I had an impression the review was not posted entirely, maybe it's FF net), The Yoshinator, Mija, dhauren, Sara60691, QueenAVC, wolftattoo, peruvianfolkband, HistoryGeek1993, FantrollsReviewer, PopsicleofDeath, Kaykara, TheGirlThatIsBorderLineCrazy, Tatharwen, Tape Monkey, JannaKalderash, Xela-chan, ALL THE GUESTS (Anon love), jade5, NinjaViper AND EVERYBODY ELSE. There is so many of you. I'm sorry if I haven't named each person that reviewed, but I want you to know I love you all very much and appreciate the fact that you give my story minutes of your precious time. **

**Please review!**


	12. Chapter 12

**AN: Bum! Another update! First of all - I have the best reviewers EVER ! I hope you like this one. It was a true pleasure to write, especially after all those encouraging reviews. :) KEEP THEM COMING! I love you all and appreciate your feedback! It's my food and water. (BrazenMonkey and Noisca = YOU ROCK MY SOCKS) I'm sorry if there are grammar mistakes. :) Also, this chapter is shorter than the last, but I just NEEDED TO UPDATE THIS FOR YOU. :D :D**

**This chapter is dedicated to frostbender. You almost made me cry. Thank you for your kind words. That is all.**

**Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Marvel.**

* * *

Chapter 12

'I don't believe it!'

Darcy exclaimed as she observed the street through the glass window. It was muddy and wet. Like small diamonds, rain-drops raced over the surface of the dirty glass windows. People laughed and rushed to their homes as water showered from the heavens. A small girl was dancing happily, her pink boots stomping on the mud in excitement.

It was the first time after so long in New Mexico, that Darcy woke up to the sound of rain falling on windows ledge. She and Loki almost fell asleep on the terrace, but somehow, they managed to drag themselves to their beds. Thunder came nearer and almost towered over their heads. Darcy had no idea it would bring rain to Puente Antiguo.

The morning was calm. Even though the air was heavy with rain, the mood was lighter than the day before.

'Believe what?'

'It's raining.' she turned to him, smiling widely, zipping up her hoodie and hugging herself. Her pink bunny slippers flip flopped as she walked in front of the big glass window, curtains drawn back just a little.

Loki sat on the kitchen table, eating what was left of their chocolate cereals, studying a book he found on the counter.

'And why is that so surprising?' he arched one black eyebrow, smirking, as he turned the yellow page.

'_Hello_? This is a desert! It's the first time in what-' she looked up in thought, counting something on her fingers '-almost 10 years that rain fell!'

Loki returned to the old book, drinking milk 'It fascinates me how you get excited by such small things.'

Darcy crossed her arms over her chest, and slowly walked up to him 'Well, that's what life is about - being cheered up by small things.'

Loki said nothing. Only continued reading, and Darcy has never seen him so immersed in _anything_, let alone Midgardian literature.

'What are you reading?' she asked with a smile, biting her lip.

'Nothing.' he said, not looking at her, as he turned another page. She observed how elegantly he held the book inside his lap, rubbing the edge of the old page with his thumb and forefinger, stroking the rugged spine, his large spidery hand holding it higher in the air.

Darcy smiled, leaned forward and quickly took the book from his propped up hand, too curious to see what was it exactly he read.

'It's rude to snatch things out of other people's hands.' he commented brashly, popping another strawberry in between his white lips, not fighting to get the book back.

Darcy peered at the cover, and sighed, smiling. Then, she flipped one of the pages and read: '_Regarding scholarship on Loki, scholar __Gabriel Turville-Petre__ comments (1964) that "more ink has been spilled on Loki than on any other figure in Norse myth. This, in itself, is enough to show how little scholars agree, and how far we are from understanding him." _'

Loki smiled, delighted, and leaned back, listening to Darcy's voice.

Smiling, she continued reading: _'Hardly a monography, article, or encyclopedic entry does not begin with the reference to Loki as a staggeringly complex, confusing, and ambivalent figure who has been the catalyst of countless unresolved scholarly controversies and has elicited more problems than solutions.'_

'It seems I wreak havoc even when I am not aware of it.' he commented lightly, smoothing his raven hair back.

Darcy laughed. The sweet noise echoed off the glass walls of the strange house, and Loki felt a shiver running down his spine. He enjoyed the sound of her laughter.

'Oh this is good.' Darcy beamed, pointing her finger at the page '_Loki, the outsider in the Northern Germanic pantheon, confounds not only his fellow deities and chronicler Snorri Sturluson [referring to the Prose Edda] but has occasioned as much quarrel among his interpreters._'

'_Midgardians_…' Loki snorted, drinking from the mug.

'Honestly, isn't it a bit vain of you to read a book about yourself ?' she laughed, sitting on the other side of the table.

He arched both eyebrows, as if in wonder 'Of course not. It's quite amusing, actually. There are stories and informations inside even _I_ never knew about myself.'

Darcy shook her head, smiling, resting her chin in her palm. 'You mean… everything inside these books are lies?'

Rain thudded more violently on the windows, while a group of screaming teenagers ran outside.

'Not everything.' Loki stopped for a moment, took another strawberry, and spoke while chewing on it, smirking 'But, I can guarantee you at least half of the things written about me are false.'

'Like what?'

'Well…I don't recall giving birth to a horse, a snake, a wolf or a female child.' he smiled slightly, drinking milk from the white mug. 'That is ridiculous. I never had children.'

The last sentence struck Darcy - she never though of Loki as a father. The mere idea of it seemed strange. But then, another question filled her head. Feeling the familiar sting of poisonous jealousy, she drew a sharp breath and decided to ask him.

'So…' Darcy straightened up, not working hard to cover her obvious envy. 'Was there a woman in Asgard that caught your attention?

An ever so sly smirk graced Loki's handsome face, a twinge of evil satisfaction crossed his features.

'I am a millennia old, Darcy. It would be unnatural if there wasn't.'

Darcy fell silent. Loki continued 'What _women_ did you read about, exactly?'

_Great, rub it in… _Darcy snarled inside her own head, trying hard not to snap at him.

'Well, Sigyn, Angrboða and Sif to name a few.' Darcy answered curtly, the names of the women more than clear, laughing in her mind. 'It is said you enjoyed yourself the most.'

Loki chuckled, and Darcy tried hard not to glare at him. She just sat there, arms crossed over her chest, rigid as a board. She looked at him brashly from behind her spectacles.

'I was _never_ involved with Sif.' he said, the expression on his face an unsolvable riddle.

'Well, it is a popular myth. It is said you cut all her golden hair while she slept, because you were jealous of her and Thor. And then you replaced it with a darker one.'

A small shadow fell onto Loki, he kept smiling. 'But there is nothing inside that says _anything_ about the two of us being together. In any way, shape or form. Am I right?'

'I guess.' Darcy said coldly, as she dragged the heavy book nearer, flipping through the pages. 'But what about others?' The mortal woman burned at the thought of another woman having Loki.

A toothy smile welled up, and Loki leaned nearer on the table, trying to catch Darcy's brown eyes. 'Do I detect jealousy, Darcy?'

Darcy's eyes flashed and blood rushed to her cheeks. 'N-No!' She answered all to quickly, and then realized his smile widened. Quickly, in embarrassment, she slapped her palms over her eyes '_Damn it…_'

He smiled, stood up and walked to her small, hunched, humiliated form. Frustration filled Darcy, and she looked up at him, her cheeks still red like ripe wine.

'You really enjoy doing this, don't you?' she squeaked, looking up at him.

'Doing what?' Mischief shined inside his emerald eyes. Loki's charming grin made Darcy weak at the knees, and she resented him for that.

'This!' she yelled, flapping her arms wildly at him.

'I have no idea _what_ you are talking about.' The tricksters smile never wavered.

Darcy huffed, standing up and trying to puff up a bit, even though it made no difference - the top of her head still reached his neck. With an exasperated sigh, Darcy turned to leave. Clumsily, Darcy hit her leg hard while turning. And she cursed out loud a sea of profanities Loki was not entirely familiar with.

Inside, she was fluttering. Just the thought of Loki with another woman. A beautiful woman, without a doubt, dressed in flawless flowing gown, golden hair, blue eyes… Feminine, delicate and so damn perfect. She, on the other hand, felt like an ugly tree trunk, in her oversized hoodie, pajama bottoms and messy, tangled dark hair. _I haven't shaved my legs in weeks for heavens sake!_

She felt miserable while she walked away from him, wishing she could simply crawl in a corner with a jar of Nutella, and sob.

Loki saw her embarrassment, and his smile grew smaller when he realized she grew sad. It was just a bit of fun, he never imagined a woman like Darcy - brash, loud and seemingly incredibly sure of herself, to be down-hearted by his words.

An idea crossed Loki's mind, and he was left momentarily amazed at how his dark mind was able to produce such thinking these days. Not really caring what his rational head told him, he simply took long strides, easily reaching Darcy.

With a sure motion of his long arms, he caught Darcy's hips, turned her in his arms, and like she was a bag, hoisted her up and over his broad shoulder.

Darcy yelped, as she felt herself being turned, lifted and placed upon Loki's shoulder like she weighted nothing. And Darcy _knew_ she _weighted_. One arm held the back of her knees, while Loki's other arm simply swung back and forth as he nonchalantly walked towards the sofa.

'Loki! _What the hell?_ Put me down!'

'Not an option.' he replied coldly, smirking as her blue-striped pajama clad legs kicked helplessly.

'Come on!' she yelled, as she kicked his back with her hand. But the god of mischief couldn't be bothered.

With a vibrating laugh, Loki sat on the sofa, together with Darcy, who was now hanging on his shoulder like a towel one might fold over to let it dry.

Turning her swiftly in his hand, he positioned her inside his lap, so she was lying on him. Instantly, Darcy blushed, as her body pressed against his in such a convenient and favorable way.

'You may be over millennia old, but you're still childish.' she said, her face cold. But Loki saw it, a faint blush creeped on her cheeks, an indication of a sweet smile slowly emerged on her beautiful face.

'Be quiet.' he murmured, his eyes half lidded and concentrated on her face. Darcy's anger evaporated quickly, his charm and handsomeness fanning away what was left of her outrage.

One hand quickly slipped behind Darcy's neck, and to the back of her head, tangling in her messy hair. With an urgent pressure, he drew her nearer and snatched her lips to his own. Darcy opened her mouth in need, her small pink tongue longing to engage in a duel with his own. When Loki sensed this, a sensation he rarely felt surged through him, and he breathed through his nose hard, relishing the feel of her mouth against his.

'The jealousy has never tasted sweeter.' he whispered, voice hoarse.

'_Be quiet_.' she breathed back, smiling. He returned her smile.

Their lips found each other again.

Darcy surrendered to him completely. Her body relaxing, she clutched to his neck and shoulders, and her secured her on top of him with a strong arm around her back.

The rain pounded heavily, fogging the glass. The streets were empty. Puente Antiguo fell silent.

…

S.H.I.E.L.D. Base (The Helicarrier), 4 p.m.

The phone vibrated inside a black leather pocket of Nick Fury. The hum of the computers and constant typing of the diligent agents intertwined with the vibration inside his long leather coat. Snatching the constantly ringing phone, Fury answered.

His voice was gruff, impatient and demanding. 'Yes?'

'Director Fury.' answered the all-familiar indifferent voice of Agent Phil Coulson.

'Speak quickly, Coulson.' Fury scratched the top of his dark, bald head.

'Sir, we think we have him.' A tinge of excitement wound itself inside Coulson's slightly nasally voice.

'Good. And what about Miss Lewis?' Nick Fury demanded, one thick arm on his hip.

'Unwilling to cooperate. But she's the least of our problems.' said Couslon.

'Unwilling to cooperate?' Fury asked, frowning.

'The cameras showed us she was not alone. She claimed no one was with her. She lied.' Coulson smirked 'We have now put her on top of our suspect list.'

'Suspects for what?' Agent Hill gave Fury a paper, and he quickly swept over it with his one dark eye.

'Helping the enemy.' Coulson replied bluntly.

'And you're sure it's him?' Fury raised his voice 'There's no place for _mistakes_, Coulson.'

'Yes, sir.' he answered curtly. 'The radiation our devices picked up the second time matched. We believe the sudden surge of power that tampered with the cameras came from our target. We have never seen such power emanating from a person. Not since Thor. We have him.'

'Did you search the house?' Fury typed something on a nearby computer. Three SHIELD agents rushed next to him, carrying big black briefcases.

'Yes, sir. We found nothing.' Coulson checked his wrist-watch, motioning for a couple of agents to move forward.

'Alright, Coulson.' Fury straightened up, his one good eye narrowed 'It's time to move.'

'I don't think he'll come willingly, sir.' Smirk fell from his face.

'Do whatever you can, Coulson.' Fury sighed, tired. 'Just bring him as _quietly_ as you can.'

'With all due respect sir, I don't think it will be as easy as you say.'


	13. Chapter 13

**AN: My lovelies... here is chapter 13. Your reviews are my inspiration and they get my muse working inside my head. I love you all and I hope you'll enjoy this one. This particular scene was in my head for a long time, so I hope you'll like it. I will answer to all your kind reviews in a PM. Just give me some time. Also, we reached 200 reviews ! OMG I AM SO HAPPY ! Sorry if there are any grammar mistakes.**

**While I wrote this I listened to:**

**To Zucchabar - Gladiator soundtrack (especially towards the ending of the chapter)**

**Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Marvel.**

* * *

Chapter 13

It was late in the evening when a scream echoed from a glass house on the edge of the small town. The desert sand glistened on the clear moonlight, curving like the hips of a sleeping woman, still damp from the rain that fell almost the entire day. The air was light.

The scream ran from the bathroom, through the hall, reaching Darcy's room, the living room area and the kitchen. Across the glass walls and marble floors. Loki was lying on the sofa when he heard it. Emerald eyes snapped open from a small nap, and he was on his feet the next second. Blood rushed through his whole body when he realized the scream belonged to Darcy.

He ran as fast as he could through the dark hall, quickly reaching the white door of the bathroom that were slightly open, so a streak of golden light radiated from the inside. The door burst open as Loki pushed them with an outstretched arm, his black long hair falling in his eyes.

'A snake! A freaking snake! Goddamn desert! Freaking Puente Antiguo!'

Darcy climbed a white counter near the washbasin. Shampoo, perfumes, small soap bars and various other bottles and pots were slowly tumbling down from the counter on which Darcy sat, quivering in fright. A pile of freshly washed, folded towels were thrown over the floor, and in the middle of the fluffy, white heap slithered an emerald snake. It was quite large, and it hissed, coiling, looking at Darcy with small, yellow, cold slits, ready to strike. Darcy was at the brink of tears, pointing her finger at the viper.

'Don't you dare come closer! Shoo! Shoo!'

Darcy wore nothing but a cotton peach-colored tank top and black knickers. Her hair was raised and wrapped in a turban she made from a towel. One of her legs was glistening with water, the creamy flesh clean and smooth. Loki frowned when he noticed the other leg looked like it was smeared with some sort of white foam. In Darcy's other hand, clutched tightly like a weapon, was a small pink razor blade.

'Get it out!' she screamed, as she tried to climb even higher. The snake hissed, slithering nearer 'PLEASE!'

Loki smiled at the scene, relief flooding him. Then, he wiped his large hands on the sides of his black t shirt, and crouched near the snow-like pile of towels. The god of mischief smirked, after a long while feeling his skin tingle with the venom that will remain in his skin for the rest of his immortal life.

'_Oh, come here, my beauty_…' he whispered gently, as if to a child. Then, he lifted the coiled snake, softly caressing its shiny, dark green skin. The creature gently wound around his arm like a hissing twining plant.

'She will not harm you.' Loki smirked, as he fondled the serpents cold skin.

'Yeah…' Darcy breathed, putting her cold hand upon her scared face '…good to know.' She was still in shock, and she propped herself on her hands, not brave enough to come down from the counter.

'Can you, please, just…' she closed her eyes '…take it away from me.'

Loki smiled, his deep velvety voice filling the bathroom. 'Of course.' And then he stepped around the pile of towels, and simply stretched his hands out of the small window. It slithered out of his arms, and Darcy swore the creature seemed hesitant. Like it enjoyed the tricksters touch. Once the snake was out, Loki shut the window tightly.

'I have _never_…' her heart still thumping wildly, Darcy clutched her chest '…been this freaked out. Oh my God.'

Loki stood rigidly, admiring and observing Darcy's feminine hips, round legs, delicate feet and red-colored finger nails. Her tank top drew up, so her belly was revealed to Loki. He then realized he couldn't stop staring at her parchment-like, pale flesh.

'You can come down now.' he murmured lightly, his eyes still on her. Darcy checked the ground once again, earning an endearing smile from Loki, and slowly, she slipped onto the white tiled floor.

'So, um…' Darcy folded her hands in front of her nervously, realizing she was scarcely clothed. 'Thank you for getting here so quickly.'

Inside, Darcy smiled in pleasure as she remembered Loki's distraught face and the force with whom he almost broke down the door when he came running. Shaving foam dripped from her leg, creating a small puddle at her feet. Loki stepped closer to her, chuckling as he observed her.

'Do not mention it.' he stood in front of her 'I just wanted to ask if I could borrow a blade or a knife.'

'Blade? What for? Are you going to kill me?' Darcy smiled, winking.

Loki laughed out loud, the noise warmed Darcy inside, and her toes curled as she observed his head, thrown back and ringing with reverberating laughter, his sinewy neck pale. '_Not yet._' He leaned forward, smiling. 'First I must cut my hair.' he said.

Darcy gaped at him, not believing what she just heard '_Why on Earth would you do that?_' She turned the razor in her hand, and started shaving her leg quickly, not bothered by the fact Loki stared at her, obviously confuzed. She turned on the warm water in the sink and after each firm stroke, she rinsed the sharp edges.

'It is _far_ too long.' he shook his head, slicking it back with a quick movement of his hand.

Darcy just lifted her hands and stopped him from saying one more word. When she was finished, she placed the razor near the sink, and took a clean towel. After dipping it in warm water, she simply wiped her leg. Then she straightened up trying to look serious, but failed miserably when she felt her foot slipping slightly on the dripping, melted foam.

'Do you trust me?' she smiled, as she held onto the sink.

'That is the second time you asked me that.' he commented lightly, leaning on the wall. Darcy merely lifted her eyebrows and waited for him to answer her.

'_Yes_.' he said at last, his face serious, devout of all emotion.

'Then go to the living room and wait for me.' she said as she crouched down and gathered the towels, wiping the puddle. Surprised, Loki arched one elegant eyebrow, and folded his arms over his chest. He turned on his heel, and walked out.

…

When Darcy's hair was dry and shiny, falling down to her waist in silky locks, and when she was fully clothed she stepped into the living room. She was clothed in a simple black, long sleeved, cotton t shirt and a pair of navy skinny jeans. She wore aubergine colored boots and carried a small pot with electric blue packaging and a laundry basket.

When she walked in, Loki was standing with his broad back to her, looking through the large glass wall and into the starry night. His shoulders were tense and he looked like he held something in his hands, but Darcy was unable to see it.

'Loki?'

Her soft voice made him turn around. When his green eyes fell on her small form, his heart suddenly swelled as warmth filled him. Whenever she came nearer, Loki felt that constant dark fog inside him lifting a bit, only to fall back down when she was away from him.

Darcy smiled broadly, her face rested and fresh.

'Can you sit down?' she asked as she motioned to a chair by the table. Loki did as she asked of him, took long steps and slipped in a chair. His height really shown when he was seated, because, even then, Darcy had to stand to her tip topes to see what she was doing.

'You have the most stunning black hair I have _ever_ seen.' she commented lightly, taking the tin lid off the small pot. 'It would be a waste to cut it.'

Loki smirked, leaning back on the chair as he felt Darcy's warmth behind him. Darcy took a generous amount of clear gel in her hand, and rubbed her palms together.

'I see your hair is constantly falling into your eyes.'

'Unfortunately, yes.' he said.

'Well… not anymore.' she grinned as she lightly treaded her gel-coated finger through the entire length of his raven hair. When she was about to reach the tips, she turned them upwards, playing with the feathery ends.

The god of lies closed his eyes, breathing deeply as he relished the feel of the mortal woman's fingers on his scalp. Slowly, Darcy adjusted his tresses, mimicking Loki's constant movements, slicking his hair back, and then curving it at the ends. Darcy's breathing fell short when she touched his head, even more so when she felt him lean his head back and into her hands.

When she was done, Darcy leaned down, and whispered by his ear '_Look_.'

Loki opened his eyes, and his penetrating gaze met his own reflection in a hand mirror Darcy held inside her hand. When he saw the work she has done, he was left momentarily amazed and shocked when he realized he liked it. His hair shined and stood firmly, slicked back and curved at the ends.

'You like it?' Darcy asked eagerly as she waited for his opinion.

'Quite.' was his short response. But it was more than enough for Darcy. She beamed at him, proud at the work she has done.

'You promise you're not going to cut it off when I'm not around?' she smiled, placing her hands on her hips like a mother scolding a child.

Loki chuckled as he stood up. When he turned around, Darcy was shocked at how handsome he looked, and averted her eyes to the ground when she realized she practically drooled while looking at him.

'Um, I washed your tunic.' she motioned to the clean emerald garment folded in the basket on the floor. 'And I polished your armor.' She blushed when she noticed he looked down at her, smirking that trademark riddle of a smile. Blush covered her cheeks.

'You sound as if you are eager to see me leave?' he gestured with his arm, and Darcy's lips parted as she stared at him 'Of course not!' she said. 'I-I mean…'

Loki's smile fell.

'…I would hate to see you leave.' she said softly, almost whispering, still looking at the ground.

'Look at me, Darcy.' he whispered to her, his voice tense.

Her brown orbs snapped to his own green ones. _Need_ was all he saw inside her warm gaze. Need and longing. If only she knew the same sensations coursed through his chest, and were yet to arrive on his visage.

'I have something for you.' he said as he took the shard of Bifrost from his black pant pocket. Loki lifted his hand, and with the firm motion, lifted the shard so it hovered in the very air before Darcy, suspended by the magic of the god of mischief. Loki made a tight fist and then rolled it to the side. When he did it, the shard started spinning at the maddeningly high speed. Soon, it became a blur and slowly formed in a heavy pebble stone. Bit by bit, it took the shape of a small snake. Loki's other hand went up and lingered over it. After a few seconds, a long, white gold chain flew out of the tip like a whip.

The reflection of the sophisticated magic mirrored in Darcy's brown eyes, her red lips opened in awe and amazement at Loki's skill and talent.

She had no time to blink, Loki already held his forefinger in front of him, the white gold necklace dangling from it. On the end of it, swinging from side to side was a snake pendant, gleaming and glinting as rainbow surged through it.

'Something to remember me by.' he stretched his hand to Darcy.

'I can't accept this. It's a piece of the Rainbow bridge.' she took a step back 'It's too valuable.'

'Darcy, it is just a _shard_.' he sighed, smirking sadly 'Lost and broken, forgotten and lonely. Just like me.' he said coldly, still dangling the necklace on his finger. Darcy just stared at Loki, her eyebrows knitted in the middle, lips pressed together in gathering sadness.

'Bifröst was built to connect, join, knit and link together all the Nine realms.' Loki whispered, taking step closer 'The fall from it brought me to _you_.'

Her chest slowly rose and fell, her breathing heavy as Darcy fell into the endless pit made by the intensity of his gaze, the strength of his words, the smell of his body. Suddenly, everything seemed so heavy around Darcy, everything fell into a blur. Everything, except him.

'_You_ took this out of me. _You_ healed me.' he said, shaking his head a bit, closing his eyes briefly 'I want you to have it.'

'But, I have nothing to give you.' Darcy shook her head slightly, moved by Loki's words, a lump forming in her throat.

'Oh, but you already have.' he smiled. And lowering the hand that held the necklace, he lifted the hem of his black t shirt, the pale, lean flesh revealed to Darcy. Upon it, like an abrasion on a perfect canvas, was the scar, clumsily sewed together by Darcy's shaking fingers.

A hot tear leaked from the corner of Darcy's right eye, spilling across her hot cheek. Inside, Darcy was melting like wax thrown over the burning flame, her insides scorched by the sheer force of the truth in Loki's voice. Darcy hung onto each word that seeped from his lips, the title of the god of lies not important. Not important at all.

She took a step closer, and placed her small palm on the sewn wound. Her head dipped down, a small yelp of sadness filling her, threatening to run out of her. Loki shuddered as her hand covered his cold flesh, and with his free hand, pulled Darcy nearer with a pressure between her shoulder blades. Her delicate back quivered with barely suppressed sobs as he pulled her in, his eyebrows knitted.

The thought of Loki leaving made Darcy's mind feel like a cloudy sky, announcing the forthcoming storm of panic and grief. Darcy placed both palms on his closed wound, covering and pressing them to it as if in a prayer.

With a tender hold on her shaking chin, Loki lifted her face to his, longing to see her beautiful eyes, her lips. Then, he gently placed the necklace around her pale neck. Darcy felt the cold crystal over the fabric of her shirt. It dangled in between her breasts, the freezing chain sending shivers over her décolletage. As Loki's fingers placed the precious jewelry around her neck, the god of lies let his fingers linger on her neck, gentle as flower petals.

Darcy didn't have time to blink, and Loki leaned down to her petite form, and placed his lips on her warm throat. Cradling her neck, he let Darcy lean her head back, revealing more of her flesh to him, as he lightly traced her sweet skin with his cold mouth. Holding her around her waist, he let Darcy lean more of her weight to his strength, and he kissed her pulse, feeling her uneven breath.

Tears still leaked down from Darcy's eyes, as she surrendered sadly to Loki.

In between their heaving chests, filled with unstoppable bursts of emotion, lay a piece of the Rainbow bridge. The small snake so frail and breakable, like the very fibers of the universe, time and circumstance that brought them together.

So different, yet so alike. So content, yet so miserable. So lost, yet so found. The god and the mortal.

**AN: MistakenMagic (GO READ HER STORY), Noisca (I LOVE YOU SO MUCH), BrazenMonkey (AND HER AMAZING STORIES TOO), frostbender, Rammy2010, Sigridhr, amidtheflowers, electracait, Chuulip, HistoryGeek1993, Sylin17, Mizra, the Yoshinator, mskaityw, Sara60691... THANK YOU !**

**Review ! :) :)**


	14. Chapter 14

**AN: Oh my Lord, this one was so complicated to write, but I enjoyed it anyway. The response this story has is unbelievable and if it weren't for you, kind readers, this probably would not exist. I love you all, and thank you a thousand times for your kind words and support. Enjoy! Don't forget to review - you can be sure I'll update sooner :D :D**

**I listened to:**

** Olafur Arnalds - Og Lengra (for the first part of the chapter)**

**To Zucchabar - Gladiator (for the second part)**

**Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Marvel.**

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Chapter 14

_What am I doing? _

Loki shook his head, but his hands seemed to have a mind of their own.

The casket was heavy in his arms that slowly turned blue, and the younger prince of Asgard glared disgustingly through his red eyes at the ancient relict he held, repulsed and drawn to it all at the same time. Someone was behind him, and he knew just who it was. He sensed his lurking steps following him through the entire royal court and to the weapon's vault where he would confront him.

'_Am I cursed_?' he gritted through his teeth, his voice quivering as the coldness covered him. Inside and out.

_Everything will be different now._

The scene changed, and Odin's troubled face and the golden wall behind him disappeared. Loki found himself in the grand hall, standing next to his _brother_.

'_Some do battle, others just do tricks_.' Thor rumbled proudly, his bearded chin so impudently high, the self-satisfied smirk in its place. The helmet on his head shiny, matching his silver and red armor.

The servant standing beside them chuckled, clearly favoring the elder prince. The future king had no idea his throne would be snatched from his greedy, arrogant fingertips that very afternoon. _His day of triumph would be my day of pleasure._

Loki turned coldly towards the servant who held a golden goblet filled with bloody wine. With a sly movement of his hand, servants eyes filled with fear, and he yelped pathetically, dropping the silver tray and the goblet once small black snakes started slithering out, their cold bodies formed from the very drops of the intoxicating drink.

'_Loki_… now that was just a waste of good wine.' Thor said in a scolding tone, not reaching down to help the scared servant, only looking in front of him, his blue eyes directed towards the high ceiling of the grand hall he will step into in a few moments, where he would be greeted with cheers, smiles and approval.

'_Ooh, just a bit of fun_,' Loki shook his head, his eyes innocently looking at the unbecoming servant '_Right, my friend?_' And with another movement of his hand, the spell ended.

Loki chuckled, and Thor, wine and the servant vanished from his side in a blur of laughter and roaring fires. Next, he felt the everlasting wind of cosmos whipping his green cape.

The Sea Eternal foamed and frothed as violent waves carried the electric blue water. The waves broke over the shores of Asgard, and flew into the abyss of the universe. Ymir's blood was restless. Loki was furious, the Rainbow bridge vibrating under his feet as he walked towards Heimdall.

'Tell me Loki, how _did_ you take the Jotuns into Asgard?' his voice deep, echoing with the centuries spent standing, guarding and watching over the Nine realms.

Loki shifted in anger, holding Gungnir, his _father's_ golden staff 'You think the Bifröst is the only way in and out of this realm?' he sneered 'There are secret paths between worlds to which even you, with all your gifts, are blind. But I have need of them no longer, now that I am king, and I say for your act of treason, you are relieved of your duties as gatekeeper, and no longer citizen of Asgard!'

'Then I need no longer obey you.'

Swift as lightning were Loki's movements when he saw Heimdall reaching for his long golden sword, swinging it around himself, and aiming for Loki's head. The sound of cracking ice upon the dark skin of the gatekeeper was all Loki saw as his eyes, once again, turned blood red, his skin blue and his nails black. The Eye of the Nine realms stood frozen, like a small moment stopped in time, his mouth in a snarl, his brow angry, his amber eyes open and burning into Loki, wishing he could behead him.

Loki sneered at the sight of the gatekeeper. The person he never liked, and who always seemed to look down upon him, like the rest of his worthless family.

Ice melted from the gatekeeper and the colorful universe behind him as Loki flew somewhere else, only to find himself looking down at the bed where his father lay. He was still, silent, unmoving. Huginn and Muninn, Thought and Memory croaked, deep purple feathers of the large birds flashed mystically and Loki looked up at his mother who sat at Odin's bedside.

'Thor is banished. The line of succession falls to _you_. Until Odin awakens… Asgard is yours.' An indication of a warm smile played on Frigga' lips, as she bowed her golden head slightly, whispering '_My king._'

Once his palms touched the adamant surface of the Gungnir and his eyes flashed in unsolvable emotion, he sensed he was not in Asgard. Not anymore.

Now, a voice spoke, a deep, growling voice, knitted by hatred, malice and greed, its raspy tones disgustingly frightening. It spoke to him as he fell down into the endless universe. The voice of the Other.

'The Tesseract has awakened.' After each word, a hissing echo could be heard, like a choir of deadly singers 'Are you ready to lead them? Are you ready to command the Chitauri?'

'_Yes_.' That was the eager answer his white lips uttered after two months of constant falling, his mouth dry.

'The time has come.' It continued, throwing Loki down. Again, he fell, and when he looked up, he could see a small dot. It came closer and closer, and he could see it - blue water, brown and green land, white clouds, and a green glow of the Aurora Borealis.

_Midgard_.

Chitauri's violent screech followed him.

The god of lies plummeted down harder, like a falling meteor.

Raining down, shutting down.

A white flash. And then pain.

…

'NO!' Loki yelled as he bolted up, waking up from his nightmare. His gaze met the light green walls of Darcy's room. Loki closed his eyes in anger, remembering the treaty, the ominous agreement... remembering everything.

_This has to be done…_

A sheen of sweat covered his forehead, an irritated line forming between his eyebrows, and his jaw clenched. He felt Darcy shifting next to him and he drew a shuddering breath. Darcy was lying under a white sheet, and Loki observed the shadows playing on the cold surface as she slowly sat up.

'Are you okay?' Darcy rubbed her eyes tiredly, placing one hand on his tense shoulder. 'I though I heard you shouting in your sleep.'

A sudden wave of wrath spilled inside Loki. He growled out loud, tearing the sheets from his body aggressively, making Darcy flinch and fearfully remove her hand from him. Bare feet stepped onto the cold marble floor. It did not bother him. Coldness never bothered him. He whipped around, his hair slicked back, as he started to pace, breathing hard through his nose.

'Loki-'

'Quiet!' he suddenly burst, spitting the warning, his green eyes flashing dangerously at Darcy. They were not their normal color.

When he met her brown orbs, his features softened. His eyes returned to their original shade, when he noticed she curled in the corner of the bed, rigid as a board and afraid to move a muscle. Afraid of _him_. The alarm clock gave a soft beep, and the blue numbers flashed 4 a.m.

Loki released a tired sigh, sitting back on the bed, looking apologetic 'I am sorry. Just a bad dream.'

'You sure it was _just_ a dream?'

Loki was silent, amazement swimming inside his green pools. Darcy seemed to notice a lot more than he gave to her eager eyes.

'No.' he murmured, wiping his forehead and looking at her 'A reminder.'

'Loki…' It was Darcy's turn to sigh. Swinging her legs on the side of the bed, and propping herself into a sitting position, she scooted closer to Loki. 'If there is anything you want to share…' she looked at him carefully, giving a small smile '…I'm all ears.'

Despite his troubled thoughts, he felt warmth as she drew nearer. 'There is no point in lying to you.' he sighed and she shifted, trying to prepare herself for whatever he was about to say.

'When I fell from the Bifröst, I-' he frowned, looking at the floor '-I was falling for two months.'

There was a tense pause, and Darcy gasped softly, covering her mouth with her shaking fingertips, her eyes the embodiment of empathy. He continued, avoiding her expression.

'And, while I plummeted into the unknown, I felt despair and hatred filling me. I wanted vengeance.' his voice was growling and deep.

'Hatred towards Thor?' she asked, whispering.

'Thor, Odin, Sif, Fandral, Hogun, Heimdall, Volstagg…the Aesir.' he gritted 'The Realm Eternal.'

Darcy was silent.

'I made a deal with the devil.' he said darkly.

'What do you mean?' Fear filled her.

'While I fell, someone threw a rope to me, gave me a chance to _live_, to stand on solid ground again.' Loki stood up, and walked towards the window. Night was dark, stars were hidden, wind was blowing.

'This someone knew what I was capable of, but more importantly, he knew the amount of wrath I carried in myself.' he sighed 'The amount of wrath I still carry in myself. He... presented me with an offer.' Loki spoke quietly this time 'I was given a chance to rule this realm, in exchange for a certain relic your people possess.'

'What relic?' Darcy's eyes went wide, as she waited for him to continue.

'The Tesseract.' Loki admitted gravely. 'The source of ancient power. Unlimited, infinite and unparalleled . And I accepted his offer. I said yes.'

The wind blew harder, and Darcy watched as the blue curtains swayed behind Loki's tall form, making him look all the more menacing. Swallowing thickly, Darcy placed her palms on her knees, her eyes staring at the white buttons on her tank top 'So, what you're saying is… You plan to conquer Earth, enslave humans…' she looked up '…rule this planet?'

Loki turned, facing Darcy, and he was practically knocked of his feet as he observed her face. Something more the just confusion graced her visage. It was the faint sign of _betrayal_ on her fearful face that burned Loki more than the everlasting fires of Helheim. It was only then that he noticed how his powers of deception and skillful lies grew weak when he talked to her, when he looked at her. Something fluttered in his chest, and he approached Darcy hurriedly, feeling an urge to justify himself.

'Yes.' he said. 'This is the only way of getting Thor's attention. He will be able to return me to Asgard. And then…' an evil smirk welled up '…when they least expect it, I will hit them where it hurts most.'

Darcy learned she didn't care less about what will happen to Thor, or Sif, or Odin, or anyone she ever read and dreamed about while immersed inside the Norse myths. All she cared about was _him_.

'But if you return you will be tried! And punished!' Darcy yelled, walking towards him 'Loki, I read about this! Why would you _ever_ return? Why would you go back to them? They don't deserve you back!' Wind blew even harder, and Darcy realized how desperate and stupid she sounded. She literally found herself urging an _immortal_ man to stay with _her_. _You are an idiot! Go, get yourself hurt you freaking idiot!_

'They will condemn you, Loki. The snake-' her lips quivered and Darcy fiddled with the hem of her peach colored tank top.

'It would not be the first time, Darcy.' When he saw her confusion he continued 'One night, Odin ordered the guards to take me away while everyone slept. I was chained on a rock, the snake's poison dripped all over my body and I lay there for weeks. Thor found me. Mother ordered him so.'

_Page 524._

_They brought him to a cavern and they bound him to three sharp-pointed rocks. There they would have left him bound and helpless. But Skathi, who was of the fierce Giant brood, was not content that he should be left untormented. She found a serpent that had a deadly venom; she hung the serpent above Loki's head. The drops of venom fell upon him, bringing him anguish drop by drop, minute by minute. So Loki's torture went on. (…) When the drops of venom fell upon Loki, and he screamed in agony, twisting in his bonds. And in his bonds Loki stayed until Ragnarök came with the battle in which all things ended._

The page flashed inside Darcy's mind, and she shuddered. Ragnarök came after Loki's punishment. He brought it upon Asgard. It was his vengeance, for everything they have done to him. They all died.

'So, the myth is true?' Darcy felt a ball of sadness knotting inside her gut, so painful and heavy.

'I am afraid that one _is_ true.' he smiled sadly. 'Except there was not a woman who could provide me comfort. Not until you.' And Loki reached his pale fingers towards Darcy. She practically flew to him from her bed, and tightly hugged his around the waist, clinging to him. Wind blew around them, coming from the opened window, playing with their dark hair.

'Darcy, there is no punishment strong enough they can give me to stop me from getting what I want.' his voice was firm, just like his arms around her.

'You can't opt for torture' she said, her voice quivering.

'Valhalla!' he turned her in his arms, and looked at her face intently 'You worry about me, even when I told you my plan was to enslave your realm, bring a deadly army to slaughter your own kind, all because of my sick pride and selfish ambition?'

Darcy was disgusted with herself, as she looked at him, her face warped by sadness. '_Yes_.'

'I sent the Destoyer to Puente Antiguo-' he began.

'I know!' she yelled at him, breaking loose of his embrace 'I know Loki!' Darcy was furious 'And I can't even begin to describe how _angry_ I am at myself for not pushing you out of the freaking house the minute I realized who you were!'

Loki looked at her, his face an unsolvable puzzle.

'I just -' she said brokenly '_You did something to me_. I just can't bring myself to hate you. And no matter how much I TRY to knock some reason inside this brainless head' she fisted her hair 'I can't DO. IT.'

Silence.

'If we knew each other back then, you wouldn't send him.' Darcy shook her head 'You were angry at Thor. You had no idea what you were doing. You made a mistake. Just a mistake.' Furiously, she repeated it, as though hoping Odin would hear her, and spare Loki.

'I knew.' he said coldly.

'No, you didn't!' she shouted.

'Yes. I planned to set him free until the entire planet was nothing but soot and fire. Starting from New Mexico.'

'Why are you doing this!?'

'To show you I do not deserve your love or the freedom you provide me with.'

'_Freedom_.' Darcy scoffed. 'Let me tell you something about freedom.' Brown eyes burned intensely. 'For years, I've been studying and reading the history of my planet and the cultures that lived here.'

There was no force that could remove Loki's gaze from Darcy's passionate face.

'Thousands of battles raged the Earth, millions of lives were lost. For hundreds of years, all in the name of freedom.' Disgust surged inside Darcy 'But, somehow, that freedom was never achieved. Never.' she gave a humorless laugh 'Always behind it stood greed, rapacity and hunger for power.'

Loki felt his breath hitching as Darcy took two steps closer, her flushed face glowing in the light of the full moon that came from the window.

'_Freedom is a lie, Loki_. A false cause and an excuse to start a bloodshed.' She now stood before him, her body inches from his, as she looked up 'I myself, felt it only _once_.' And then she placed her palms upon his chest, breathing deeply 'And it was when _you_ kissed me.'

Possessiveness surged inside the god of mischief, and he shuddered at the realization that settled in his mind.

He _had_ her.

She was completely, irrevocably and utterly his.

Darcy Lewis.

'So, how dare you say you don't deserve my love!?' she spat in his face, her brown eyes glazed with tears and passion 'When I have _no_ freedom without you.'

Loki covered Darcy's hands with his own, and he drew her nearer to him, pulling her closer. Leaning down to reach her, he wrapped his arms around her body, and lifted her up in the air. Darcy wrapped her pajama clad legs around his waist, hugging his neck, searching for his lips, meeting his ragged breaths. With his spidery fingers inside her hair, he closed her mouth with his, his white lips feverishly kissing her own red ones. Darcy's breasts pressing against his chest, her soul choking in hot blood, wanting to become one with his frozen heart.

_How did we come to this?_

Loki bumped her against the wall, as his hands ravished her curves, her waist, hips, sneaking under her top, feeling the marble staircase of her ribs, the soft flesh, the heated skin and the heaving breasts. Fueled by the words she said seconds ago, he bit her neck, feeling her pulse, and Darcy wanted to drown in his groans, his growls of passion and strong arms.

Tears disappeared, rage settled, passion burned.

Loki pressed his cheek against Darcy's, whispering in her ear '_You will be the death of me._'

A smile of pleasure welled up on Darcy's face, her eyes closed in bliss, as she dipped down and drew her lips against Loki's pale throat, earning a ragged breath from Loki. Feeling no fear and no boundaries, Loki did sinful things to her skin. Unspeakable warmth enveloped Darcy as her breathing fell short. Their need to become one, in every sense, each second became harder to resist. Darcy caught Loki's slicked back curls, and drew her lips away from his own, only to whisper to him 'I would rather spend two days with you, than a lifetime with someone else.'

Loki grinned, his charming grin warming Darcy's soul and her most intimate places. He set her on fire, with his frozen palms and cold lips, she burned under his touch. Getting a firm hold on her waist, Loki lifted her up once again, only to fall on the bed with her in his lap.

The cold white sheet covered their quivering bodies, shielding them from the cruel reality and the rising sun. The glass house was filled with sighs, grunts and moans of passion. The sounds tore violently, like the wind that blew against the dry sand.

The night was cold and starless. They were one.

**AN: I hope you liked it :)**


	15. Chapter 15

**AN: Lovelies... here's another one. The first part of this chapter _could_ be rated M for sensual content, but it's really not _that_ graphic, so I'm gonna leave it T rated. THANK YOU to everyone who reviewed! I'm sorry if there are any grammar mistakes! I hope you enjoy this one. Review! **

**Disclaimer: Eveything belongs to Marvel.**

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Chapter 15

A loud noise of wind beating the open window woke Darcy up from her dreamless slumber. Like fish tangled in green sea weed, her limbs were lost inside the white sheets. She felt her head was leaning against something solid, and when she breathed, a familiar musk entered her nostrils.

Darcy was lying on her side, her back and head pressed closely to Loki's chest.

Like the tide of the mighty ocean, she felt Loki's chest rising and falling with deep breaths he took. He stirred slightly, not waking up entirely, only shifting his arms, so he hugged Darcy around her bare waist gently, and nuzzled his nose inside the crook of her neck, releasing a small sigh of content.

Gently, Darcy smiled, endeared by Loki's tender touch. She covered his large hands with her own small ones, intertwining their fingers. The wind blew hard, not stopping the entire night. She glanced at the alarm clock on her table.

_11 a.m._

She grinned girlishly, barely holding in a laugh of delight that threatened to burst from her lips.

_Last night was…_ Darcy closed her eyes in bliss. _Perfection_.

Behind her closed eyelids, the events of last night played out like an erotic black and white film. Sinfully pleasurable visions rolled in the darkness of her memory. The memory that was still cloudy from the hot steam the god of mischief _aroused_.

Darcy saw, from the very first moment she lay her brown gaze on him, he knew how to treat a woman. But, good God, what he did to her last night could only be described as the realization of her deepest, _darkest_ desires. Carnal pleasures and cravings of the flesh she was too ashamed to admit to _herself_, let alone to her partners. And, truth be told, there weren't many.

_How can something so wrong be so… right?_

She shuddered, her breathing falling short, when she remembered the way he supported her in the air, while making love to her. The way their hips seemed to have fallen into that ancient dance, rolling and buckling, it attempts to reach their high goal - indescribable ecstasy. The way she arched under his licks and kisses, pressed against him in need as his sturdy hands squeezed and clenched, holding her just above her waist as he pumped in and out of her, each stroke and brush of his flesh against hers creating a song from Valhalla.

And his eyes. _Goodness, his eyes._ How he looked at her while he took her body. The mere memory of that sharp flash of green made Darcy burn on the inside. And that treacherous devil - his voice, made her toes curl in dirty pleasure. One moment, it melted like velvety chocolate, and the next, it growled like a caged animal.

The love-making was as diverse as the two people who preformed it. At times, it was gentle, slow and utterly luxurious. Darcy twisted under him, writhing, moaning and mewling, waiting of him to do _something_. And she remembered his rumbling, dark chuckle as he watched her in sick pleasure, his dark hair tousled and messy from the constant clenching of her trembling fingers.

_'Eager, are we?'_ he would snigger, making Darcy arch up and bite his neck, trying with all her might to dominate him, but failing miserably at each attempt. He was the one who was in charge. King of her bed, emperor of her mind, tzar of her body… god of her heart.

But more often, it was aggressive. _Angry_ even. She remembered Loki's one hand clenching the sheets under her in wild pleasure and feral anger, as she glided onto him, her nails digging into his broad, pale back, and he wrapped his other arm around her body, her legs around him. Loki's sinewy neck tense, veins pulsing on his arms as he bared his teeth, and made love to Darcy even harder, faster, stronger.

And she gladly swallowed all of it - rage, pain, fear and passion.

Biting her neck, biting her lips, tugging out her small pink tongue so he could suck on it, battle with it until they both breathed hard, desperately needing some air. He took the term _kissing_ to a whole new level. His mouth was capable of so much more than just lying. _Oh, good God, so much more… _

She didn't remember how many times he took her, but it didn't matter. Both Darcy and Loki surrendered to their needs and desires. Abandoning all logic, they freely let their animalistic urges and raw hunger take over. Both felt a storm coming, and they tried to make most out of the night they shared.

_Who knew what the morning would bring? _

Darcy opened her eyes again, temporarily ending the heated memory, and her gaze fell upon the torn garment. It lay sadly on the floor, the black knickers ripped down the middle.

_Darcy gasped, lips parted in pleasure, but she couldn't bring herself to glare at him 'Those were my favorite.' 'They were in my way.' he said coldly, throwing the underwear behind him, a shadow falling over his eyes, as he dipped down and drew his lips over the inside of her white tight. There he whispered 'You shall thank me once I am finished.'_ _And her head fell back against the feathery pillow, gleeful laughter bursting from her lips._

The mere memory of it aroused Darcy further, and she had to bite her lip in order to stop a moan. Nothing, nothing could compare to the moment they reached their peak. Loki reached his Earth-shattering climax faster than Darcy, his blinding release triggering a small part of his magic, and the surge of unstoppable power transferred to Darcy, sending her to the everlasting cosmos and back. Darcy swore the glass house quivered, matching her shaking tights around his hips, matching his trembling arms around her waist.

Matching their fluttering hearts. The mere memory of it took breath out of Darcy's lungs.

'Sleep well?'

Darcy felt him whispering by her ear, kissing her neck lightly, covering the purple mark he gave her earlier that night. Smiling, her eyes half lidded, she simply turned in his embrace and pressed her lips against his. The sweet kiss they shared was tender, and they broke free, only to return for some more. And more.

…

Loki was sitting on the sofa, looking at his reflection in the polished surface of his golden horned helmet. Wind slowed down. The air was thick with evil foreboding as Loki looked through the window, his deep eyes concerned, grey clouds traveling from the far horizon to the small town.

The god of mischief flinched, his eyes closing, as he once again sensed that maddening whisper at the back of his mind.

The Other has chosen to speak to him again. And every time it was unannounced and thoroughly tiring. The violent bonds that connected their minds strained under millions of miles and hundreds of galaxies that separated them.

_Do not think you can make us wait too long, Asgardian. You shall be transported to His army once the moon is full and shining above your head. Then, the only way you shall be able to get back to Earth is with them at your command and an order to fulfill. _

'I take orders from _no one_.' Loki whispered to the empty room, his voice as tense as his broad shoulders.

_Be careful, Asgardian. __He will not tolerate your arrogance and pride._

And with a violent push against his mind, Loki stumbled. The maleficent growl still ringing in the corners of his mind.

Darcy walked in carrying a huge pile of books in her arms. She was wearing the same navy skinny jeans from yesterday, and an emerald green long-sleeved t shirt. Loki admired the tight garment that clung to her body in such a sophisticated way, the deep green color emphasizing her long, thick brown hair that hung loose around her shoulders and fell down her back.

'Like the color?' she threw the books on the floor, and the landed with a thud. 'I though we could match if I wore it.' A rested smile she wore reached her dark eyes, he skin freshly pale and flawless.

Darcy's smile fell when she noticed him observing her with a pained expression on his sharp, handsome face. He reminded Darcy of an enormous black shadow. _Her shadow._

'Loki, what's wrong?' she asked, her brow furrowing in concern as she slowly approached him.

…

SHIELD's most valuable member, Agent Clint Barton woke up to the sound of his mobile phone ringing. The annoying sound made him growl lowly, and roll in the silk bed-sheets in one of the large rooms of the expensive Hotel Gellért.

'What?' he grumbled angrily, not bothering to first check who exactly phoned him in the middle of the night.

'Barton.' Said the familiar voice of Agent Coulson, 'Where are you?'

'What happened, Phil? SHILED's radar broke or something? Electricity went out?' Barton replied sarcastically, closing his eyes when he felt sheets rustling beside him. When no reply came from the other side, and all that could be heard was low breathing.

'_Budapest_.' grumbled Clint, his shoulder sore. 'Just finished what you asked of me.'

'We need you to catch the first plane in the morning.' Coulson's voice was urgent.

'What for?' A frown fell on Barton's face.

'You'll know soon enough.'

'Fine.' sighed Barton, and turned slowly when he felt the warm hand of fellow agent Natasha Romanoff on his back. Her scarlet hair was messy and her red lipstick smeared all over her face. A red scratch graced her white forehead. _Is that Coulson?_ she mouthed, eyebrows knitted in confusion. Clint just gave her a crooked smile.

'Also, tell Natasha to turn on her cell phone.' Coulson commented and Barton could hear the smile he wore on his face 'This is the _last_ warning.'

'_Okay_.' Barton's eyebrows shot up, getting lost in his hair.

'Good.' And with that, Phil Coulson hung up.

…

Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff walked down the grand staircase, looking like an average happy couple. Water gurgled in the enormous marble and gold pool in the middle. The high ceiling above their head created a sophisticated echo. Their fingers intertwined, Natasha smiled lovingly at Barton, as he whispered something in her hair. The performance they put for the rest of the world was worth at least three Academy Awards. A lush leather satchel bag swung in Clint's hand, his white shirt unbuttoned casually. Natasha's cream colored blouse and a navy pencil skirt glowed in the early morning light that came from the large crystal windows.

Light as air, they approached the reception.

_Oh, such liars, such actors._

A petite young woman smiled at them, her light brown hair in a tight bun on top of her small head, her blue-grey eyes shining '_Jó reggelt kívánok_' her smile grew when Barton flashed her a charming grin 'Good morning.' She repeated in English.

'Good morning, Ernesztina.' Barton said, his British accent perfect, and he extended his arm and gave two red passports. Ernesztina blushed under his deep voice, and bowed her hair while typing something on her computer with her white delicate fingers.

Natasha eyed Barton suspiciously while he stared at her bowed own head, still smiling. When she straightened up, her big doe-like eyes fluttered as she handed them their passports.

'Mister and Misses Jameson…' she said brightly in broken English 'Leaving us so soon?'

Clint opened his mouth to say something, leaning with his elbow onto the counter in a flirtatious manner, but Natasha cut in, her British accent even more convincing than Clint's 'Yes, we will be checking out earlier.' Natasha smiled widely, showing white teeth '_London calling_!'

And with that she pulled Clint's arm 'Darling, we must hurry, or we'll miss our flight!'

When they walked out of the grand Hotel Gellért, Natasha's heels clicked on the grey pavement, a light breeze from the blue Danube brushing their faces.

'_Ernesztina_?' Natasha arched one elegant eyebrow. 'Since when do you know receptionists by name, Clint?'

'Nat, come on,' Clint snorted, indifferent 'You didn't think you were the _only_ _one_ who had fun while traveling?'

Natasha only glared at him, her proud Russian face steely, her green eyes serious. 'We came here to get the job done, Clint, not to deflower innocent Hungarian girls.'

Barton just smiled at Natasha, and snatched the passport from her clenched fingers. Taking out his lighter, Clint set the red passports on fire, letting them burn before his eyes before throwing them to the running Danube, where they disappeared in the second largest river in Europe, never to be found again.

'What did Coulson want?' Natasha asked coldly as they walked in the direction of a small alley, resting in a shadow between two high buildings. They rounded the corner, swift as wind, passing unnoticed by rivers of chatting people.

'I don't know.' Clint said, as he handed Natasha another passport 'But whatever it is, he wants me in the the States as soon as possible.'

'That's strange…' she frowned, her beautiful face serious 'Phil usually tells us.'

'This order probably came directly from Fury.' Clint smiled tightly as he cocked his gun, pocketing it 'The guy likes secrets.'

Rounding another dark corner, they were gone.

**AN: That scene in the Avengers when Natasha yells to Barton 'It's like Budapest all over again!' And Hawkeye replies 'You and I remember Budapest very differently.' After watching it, I thought it would be cool to add it here. I hope you like it! Review ! :)**


	16. Chapter 16

**AN: Loki doki. Another update. I love you all - those of you who reviewed and those of you who simply read it and (hopefully) enjoyed it silently in front of your computers or mobile phone screens. But, really, leave me reviews, gimme some love! And I'll love you back with quick updates and PMs to your lovely reviews. Enjoy!**

**While I wrote it I drowned with feels at this song: Man of Steel - Trailer Music HD 2013 (type it like that to you tube and PUT IT ON REPEAT! PLEASE! SO MUCH BETTER WITH IT!) - Actually the soundtrack is from Lord Of The Rings and it's single most heart-breaking soundtrack one could listen while writing.**

**Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Marvel.**

* * *

Chapter 16

A silent dread circled Loki as he stared at Darcy. Bad feeling twisted in his gut, and he swallowed thickly when he observed her innocent face, her gentle white hands folded in front of her, her kind eyes.

_She needs to know the whole story._

_You are the god of lies, Loki. Lie. It's what you do best._

_She deserves more. I shall not lie. Not this time._

'Loki?' she smiled gently, walking up to his tall, brooding form, and cupping his face gently. Loki's troubled eyes fluttered, closing slowly, his face leaning onto Darcy's palm as he covered her small hand with his own, giving it a tender squeeze.

'I have to go, Darcy.' he said heavily, his eyes still closed. The god of lies found himself afraid to face the mortal woman. Afraid to gaze into her brown pools. Afraid of what he will find on his path.

Hopelessness? Desperation? Anger?

Betrayal?

He heard Darcy's sharp intake of the poisonous air around them, and when he opened his eyes, all he saw was sadness. Profound, inconsolable and devastated sadness. Her eyes were dewey and blank.

He worked hard on keeping his face passive. On the inside, he was _drowning_.

Darcy removed her hand from his cold cheek, and took a step back, fully aware she was retreating from everything she _ever_ wanted. Biting her upper lip, she sniffed loudly, wiping her face with the back of her pale hand.

_Why did this one step feel like one mile?_

She straightened up, her chin high 'I understand.' she smiled crookedly, her eyes sad, reminding Loki of a wounded doe. '_I understand_.' She repeated more quietly, and this time, she said it to herself in a desperate attempt to comfort her own soul.

With a grave expression, Loki observed as tears dripped down Darcy's face, landing on her green t shirt, leaving small dark stains on the soft cotton. Like a gush of crystal rain dampening a mountain. Fresh, heavy and so hard to dry out.

'I understand now, Loki, how badly they treated you. And I'm not going to tell you to _stop, listen, forgive them._' She took a shuddering breath 'Because when you needed their forgiveness, when you needed them to listen, they... pushed you away.'

Loki stood, plated in his spot, hunched and enveloped in darkness.

'I know what it feels to be pushed away.' she smiled sadly 'Maybe not as extremely cut away as you were, but nonetheless…' she looked up at him 'I know how terrible loneliness can be. And I _have_ room to forgive, Loki.'

His eyes gazed at her, unblinking and so unbelievably green.

'You, on the other hand, can't hold it in. Not anymore.' she sighed 'I see it now, Loki. They deserve your rage, and they should feel it.'

'I-I… don't recognize m-myself anymore.' she stuttered, looking a the floor, seeking for words 'I-I don't care about this… Tesseract, not about Asgard, or even Earth. You changed me.' Brown eyes looked up, leaking tears, but smiling 'And I don't know whether it's magic or some kind of illusion, or even lies...'

Loki swallowed a thick lump in his throat, feeling strange.

'All I know is, I have never felt more complete.' _Or more in love. _But that part was still not meant to be voiced. Darcy refused. Because of fear. Because of rejection.

Darcy's voice rose up, fluttery and emotional 'All I care about is you. And I know I'm selfish, but then again, the world is selfish too.'

'You don't know what you are saying.' Loki's voice was strained, his eyes closing in anger.

'I do.'

'Have you any idea how much _you_ _risk_ by saying that out loud? How much _I_ risk?' The god of mischief pleaded, his gaze hunted, his white lips parted. He took a step forward.

'What could _you_ possibly _risk_ on this… lower realm?' She asked tiredly, her eyes half-lidded 'Amongst this lower race?'

'You.'

Darcy stared at him, not bothering to wipe her cheeks. The ever present longing remained in her stance, in her gaze, in every breath she took. Longing for him, and for the words that were about to roll of his silver tongue, like an avalanche of ice and snow from a razor sharp peak of a sleeping mountain.

'What makes _me_ so different from the rest of my kind?' she inquired weakly.

Taking another step to her, his dark person hunched, he repeated, a small smile playing on his lips '_You belong to me, Darcy Lewis_.'

Darcy's heart threw itself against the bars of it's eternal prison. Soul screamed at the injustice of their situation, at the thought of them parting, each taking the other way.

'I'm just a mortal, Loki.' she smiled sadly. Loki's smile fell.

'And I will grow old, disappear in time. And my children's children won't remember me.' She took ashuddering breath, a choked sob bursting forth 'Not my face, not my voice, not my eyes. I will remain a memory. Until time wipes even _that_ pale remain of what I used to be.'

'Do not speak of it-' Loki pleaded, flying to her and taking hold of her. His body crying out for her touch, he wrapped his long arms around her shoulders and buried his face in her hair. Sweet perfume of her locks tugged at his soul, his mind fogged.

'I am evanescent and brief.' she murmured in his chest, her small fingers gripping the front of his shirt, and upon her wet cheek, she sensed his rapidly beating heart. It thudded violently, taking in everything Loki refused to show on his face.

'You are a God. You will _live_ to see. You'll remain forever young, forever agile. Forever remembered.' she said so softly, her voice caused Loki physical pain and he took a sharp breath when he felt that familiar feeling inside him, that gut-twisting hand that fogged his vision, while stripping him, making him vulnerable and exposed.

'You speak of it as a blessing,' his voice fluttered, lips pressed closely to her gentle scalp and silky hair 'But it's a terrible curse. To see life and death pass before my eyes, to see winds of time change, to feel the very roots of Yggdrasil shift… While I stay the same.' Darcy closed her eyes, listening to his deep voice.

'Everything will develop, evolve and prosper.' He gritted in bitter anger 'I shall always stay the same.'

'The same ink stain upon the pale parchment of this universe.' He looked down at her eyes, burning into them, possessing them, loving them 'The same drop of black ink upon the pure parchment of your soul.'

Darcy's bottom lip quivered, matching Loki's pulse, and on the very edge, unable to contain her emotions any longer, she gave a weak smile, a genuine smile as she whispered to him. The tone of her voice and the twinkle in her eyes were not sad, but happy, despite everything.

'It's fine. I like your darkness.'

Their lips met, not caring who leaned in first, who started it, who triggered it. They met in the middle. And remained there. _Right_ in the middle. Between death and immortality, love and hate, Midgrad and Asgard, danger and peace.

They clung at each other, feeling the storm approaching. Both literally and figuratively. The thunder boomed, lightning crashing above their heads.

Never has this lonely desert seen such weather, such _change_.

Night fell.

…

Agent Coulson found himself staring at the restless sky above his head, and he couldn't remember the last time he saw a stormy desert. It was frighteningly beautiful, but it made him nervous. It reminded him of his chaotic childhood, the late nights in the attic, dreaming of heroic deeds and heroes of World War Two. The battlefields and the courage he carried in his chest as he charged with a wooden pistol across the garden, Captain America cards safe inside his cotton pocket, fighting his enemies - the cries of his beaten mother, the profanities spat by his abusive father, the brother and sister he never had, but wished he did.

Phil Coulson was and remained a simple man. Trained not to show much emotion, trained to simply follow orders. In every situation, no matter what happened.

He had no wife, no children. No permanent home, no real life.

He always was, and always will remain in service of SHIELD. Their agent, their member, their pawn. And so the dangerous order he received from Nick Fury earlier that afternoon did not _bother_ him. Like always, he sensed it was wrong, and some people would not approve of it, but it was not his place nor his decision to make.

Phil Coulson was not a bad man. His character and his mind _were_ quite cold and rational, but he was not evil. He simply followed orders without thinking, and that was his greatest flaw. Coulson's diligent docility has tragically evolved into blind obedience and mindless executing of the commands his superiors threw his way. Always, he acted like he lacked his own brain.

_Blood is not on my hands. It was not my decision. I just follow orders._

He would tell himself this. After every mission, after every phone call.

'Coulson?' A familiar voice interrupted his daydreaming, and a small wrinkle between his eyebrows straightened, leaving his face expressionless. That was his greatest talent - the face he carried. No one ever knew what he was thinking or what he was feeling.

'Hello Barton.' he gave his signature enigmatic smile 'How was your flight?'

'Long.' Barton smiled coldly, as he strained his bow, checking his arrows and clicking some buttons on his equipment.

'I presume they told you all about this mission.'

'Yeah, I got everything.' Barton secured his bow around his body, his black uniform tight around his body, leaving his muscular arms bare. 'But, I don't get why you didn't tell me this when you first called me.'

'Because you were busy.' Coulson just smiled knowingly.

'Of course I was. Busy sleeping.' An annoyed expression graced Barton's face.

'Where did you send Natasha?' Barton asked with a boring expression on his face, but Coulson knew better.

'_Russia_.' he said 'It was about time she visited her homeland.'

'You know she hates that country.' Barton checked his pockets for something, a frown on his face.

'I know.' said Coulson 'But it's a short trip, and you know her - she gets the job done pretty quickly.'

Barton knew that damned smile on Coulson's face mocked him. The radar told him everything. So, naturally, Coulson knew Barton and Natasha were in the same hotel in Budapest. Or even better in the same room.

Just as Coulson was about to add something smart to further irritate SHIELD's most skilled agent, his phone rang. He dug inside his suit pocket.

'Yes?'

'Coulson,' Nick Fury was on the other line 'Is everything set?'

'Yes, director Fury.' said Coulson eagerly.

'What's the plan of attack?'

'Right now, we are located farther in the desert. No one sees us. The target is in the house on the edge of the city, which gives us better view and more space. The people who live in Puente Antiguo have been told not to leave their houses. We told them NASA was testing something in the desert. No one made a fuss.'

'Good.' said Fury 'What then?'

'It's-' Coulson glanced at his wrist watch '10 p.m. In 10 minutes a helicopter will be sent to the house. There we will try to snatch him. Barton is here, his equipment is set. There shouldn't be any problems.'

'And what if it doesn't work, Coulson?' Fury was irritated and impatient.

'SWAT team is ready. Armored vehicles are set, and if he runs - we will catch him.' Coulson confirmed 'Director, there shouldn't be any problems…'

Only low breathing could be heard on the other line. Fury heard there was something else Coulson had to say.

'Except maybe one.' Phil said.

'What's on your mind, Coulson?' Said Fury, his tone sharp.

'Director, you know Foster's colleague… Miss Lewis, is in the house? Are you sure you want me to attack while she's there?'

'Yes.' Fury sighed in irritation. 'She is cooperating with the main suspect and is an accomplice. She has refused to tell us anything and therefore she is on our suspect list. You said this yourself.'

'I know, director.' said Coulson 'But what if something goes wrong? You don't know how Jane Foster or Erik Selvig will react to this. They may refuse to work for us.'

'They don't care about her, Coulson.' Pressed Fury, his tone exasperated 'I made _one_ phone call, and they fled to Europe without her! As I recall, you told me she was deserted when you visited.'

'Yes, but they were colleagues for years. Even Thor knows her - do you really think he will be willing to work for us if something goes wrong?'

'What could possibly go wrong, Coulson?'

'Sir.' Coulson started 'The cameras shown her interacting with our target. They seem… friendly. I don't think she will leave him alone. My guess is they will try to run away together.'

'Then you will. Catch. Them!' Fury was now angry, annoyed by Coulson's worry. 'Both if necessary! Besides, how do you know how they will react? They have no idea you are coming! You will take them by surprise!'

Coulson sighed, defeated. 'Yes, sir.'

'Phil, listen…' Fury sighed 'In this kinds of situations, collateral damage is inevitable. The threat is big and this is much bigger than Miss Lewis. You know what we are dealing with here.'

Once again, obediently, Coulson said 'Yes, sir.'

'Keep me informed.' And with that, Fury hung up.

His hand was slightly shaking as Phil pocketed his phone. Turning around, he saw Barton disappeared. A bad feel settled in his stomach. _This is going to be a long night._ A gush of strong wind brushed his suit jacket, and Phil Coulson shivered, looking up at the full moon.

It shone a bright yellow, like an ancient eye of something higher, bigger and far greater than all of them.

**AN: Tell me in reviews if you saw a reference to this fiction's title in the first part of the chapter. :)**


	17. Chapter 17

**AN: *sigh* People... I hope you enjoy this one. While I wrote it, I listened to ( in this order and type it like that to you tube):**

**Fire Nation - Two steps from hell**

**Hans Zimmer & Lisa Gerrard - Sorrow HD**

**Man of Steel - Trailer Music HD 2013 (Again, I know.)**

**I would love to thank you ALL so much for reviewing. This is the longest chapter I have ever written for this story. Also, it is the breaking point in this story and from this chapter on, the gap between the two movies in filled and we focus on the the movie _Avengers_. I planned to stop the story here and simply write a sequel, but I'm just going to continue updating here. _Maybe_ put it as a cross-over story. **

**Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Marvel. **

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Chapter 17

A sudden sound of something sharp slashing through the stormy desert air broke Darcy Lewis and Loki Laufeyson from their intimate embrace. Reluctantly, their joined lips parted, like ship sailing away from a familiar port. When the offending sound reached the ears of the god of mischief, he snapped his head to the window, his eyes reducing to snake-like slits. Instinctively, his arms tightened around Darcy and she pressed closer to him.

'What is that?' she whispered urgently. A cunning fear pressed against her mind, and her first thought were these… _Chitauri _Loki spoke of.

'I have no idea.' he hissed, his hands not keen on letting go of Darcy's upper arms. Slowly, she moved from Loki and went to the window. She barely took two steps and already, his hand went and snatched her arm again, halting her.

'_Careful_.' he warned her quietly, his eyes alert, his shoulders tense and chin held high.

Darcy gave him a small smile, and reassuringly grasped his forearm, so they held onto each other like trapeze artist. Turning on her heel, her brown hair falling into her eyes, Darcy crouched near the window, and carefully parted the thick curtains.

A blinding flash of light from a violently hovering helicopter appeared in the sky. It's cutting propellers were so frightening, destroying their calm night and lifting the dried sand in a restless storm. The terrible noise made Darcy cringe and retreat in fright. When she noticed a familiar black and white logo of an angry winged eagle, she jumped from the window.

Her scared brown eyes searched Loki's green ones. 'They've come!' She whipped her head in panic, her brown locks flying everywhere. '_It's SHIELD! Quickly!_'

Loki stepped towards her, and calmed her down by getting a firm hold on her shoulders 'You wish for us to run?'

'_Yes_!' Irritation flew all across her passionate face 'Those _bastards_ came here to attack, to take you away-'

'How do you-?'

'_I know!_' Darcy yelled 'Okay. I just know! Last time they were here, Coulson told me that by not revealing who you were, I chose a side.' She pinned him with a sharp look. '_And I did_. I won't sit back and watch them take away _my stuff_ for the second freaking time!'

'_I assure you_, Darcy,' A small smirk played on his face 'I can handle a bunch of incompetent _mortal_ agents.'

'Loki-' Darcy said 'You don't understand! They will threaten us-'

'Words are my speciality.' he placed his hand over his heart, tilting his head to the side 'They can not beat me in wordplay.'

'They don't threaten with _words_, Loki. They threaten with _weapons_.'

'No Midgardian weapon is a match for _my_ powers.' He said fiercely as he walked across the living room, picking up his shining gold helmet from the creamy sofa.

'There's only two of us, Loki!' Tears brimmed in her eyes. Tears of panic. 'And I'm sure there is more of them! We're outnumbered!'

...

_A cold gush of air chilled his bones, the green of his deep eyes even more prominent in __Jötunheim's__ frozen twilight. He leaned to the hot-tempered form of his brother._

_'Thor__, __stop__ and __think__. Look around you, __we__'re __outnumbered__.' Loki never took his eyes form the frost giant, his red eyes piercing through him, stripping him and pinning to the ice on which he stood._

_'Know your place, brother.' Thor hissed back, jerking away Loki's arm that lay upon his proud shoulder._

…

'Please! They know who you are! They filmed us!' Darcy frantically searched for words '_Thor_ must have told them who you were! How you look like!'

'_The Bifröst is gone._' Loki snarled, the mention of Thor making his lips curl back, and he whipped around 'There is no chance he could have contacted with Midgard.'

'Alright, but-' she tried to think of another reason, but Loki interrupted her roughly, his voice growling.

'I am a god! I do. Not. Run.' His tall person stared at Darcy, his helmet clutched tightly in his long fingers '_You_ will come out quietly…' Loki lifted his eyebrows '…and when you are _away from here_ and _safe_, I shall deal with them.'

'For the love of god!' Darcy fisted the hem of her green t shirt '_They won't discuss this with us!_ This is SHIELD we're talking about! They give you…' She lifted her thin forefinger '…one chance to tell them what they want to know. The second time - there is no talking! No discussion!'

She now stammered in fright as she begged him 'P-Please L-Loki!' Her hands came together as if in a prayer 'Come with me! Let's run away. L-Let's get lost. I beg of you! Don't make me go alone! I-I won't leave y-you!'

A sharp pain went through Loki's head as the picture of Darcy's scared, pleading brown eyes, filled to the brim with crystal tears, got carved into the immortal flesh of his memory. He yielded, sighing heavily, as the noise from the mortal intruders got closer and closer.

'Alright.' Loki closed his eyes in irritation. An evil foreboding filled him, stronger than _ever_, and for a moment, he wanted to change his mind. He wanted to tell Darcy to do as he first said.

A hopeful smile stretched on Darcy's face, as she flew to him and hugged him briefly around his middle, unable to control herself. 'Okay! We don't have much time!'

In that moment all his strong will faded, and he decided to listen to Darcy. After all, she had dealings with this… SHIELD before. With a swift movement of his arm, the simple black t shirt Loki wore disappeared and was replaced with his green tunic and the rest of his Asgardian armor. His green cape flew behind him, and now, he stood before Darcy just like the very first day she saw him.

His helmet was in his long arms, his long hair slicked back and shiny. He was a vision. Tall, dark, intriguing vision.

Darcy ran to the hall, and quickly snatched her dark pea coat. Then, she ran to her room. The helicopter once again flew over their heads, shaking the glass house to its foundations.

When the first crack and shot hit the bottom of the glass window, it shattered. The raging wind, sand and the noise of the helicopter burst inside, flying all over Loki, his cape fluttering around him like emerald wings. The gunshot was likely an attempt to scare them out of the house.

'_Darcy_!' Loki yelled, running to the hall to see what took her so long. As he rounded the corner, his cape hit the bowls of cereals they left on the table and they shattered, falling on top of old books on Norse paganism Darcy brought earlier that afternoon, but never managed to show him.

'_We must. Go!_'

'I'm coming!' she yelled back from her room with light green walls. It was like the world was ending - the frightening flashing of the helicopter light played on the white walls of the hallway, shadows dancing. Dancing like a silent, twisted _danse macabre._

Finally, after what felt like million years, Darcy burst from her room carrying a large brown satchel bag.

'What are you doing?' He yelled over the noise, his eyes squinting against the dusty wind that flew through the house like blood through veins.

'I don't plan on coming back!' she smiled at Loki, motioning to her bag. Loki managed to grin back at her, and with a small pressure between her shoulder blades, he nudged her towards the door.

Just as she was about to exit-

'Wait!' He shouted, his hand whipping in front of Darcy to stop her from getting out. Then he craned his neck, and looked up. The helicopter now flew around the house. When it's tail turned towards them, Loki pushed Darcy forward and they ran in the direction of the white van.

When they were about to reach the doors of the van, Darcy stopped.

'Oh God!' Her hand flew to her mouth, then slid down to her chest '_I forgot my necklace!_'

Loki felt he might burst with anxiety and anger. 'Don't you _dare_ run back for it!' He screamed at her, whipping his arm to the side in fury.

An apologetic look she send his way told Loki there was no way she will go without her beloved shard. Loki did not liger on her eyes, for he felt a _threat_ from the heavens, pulsing in his bones. Glancing in the direction of the helicopter, he saw a man, all clad in black, the tip of the shining arrow directed at him. He closed his eyes, disappearing, only blue mist lingering where he used to stand. And when he opened them, he reappeared next to Darcy, trying to snatch her arm and drag her back to the van.

An arrow hit the spot where he used to stand. But, what Loki didn't expect, was to see another sharp arrow flying again so swiftly. There was time for neither illusions nor magic. In the blink of an eye, Loki saw it flew to Darcy's direction, swifter than heavy rain, and he stretched him arm, catching the arrow inside his crushing fist before it dug into her flesh.

Whipping his proud head to the direction of the helicopter, his green eyes burned with malice as they glared in the face of the man who shot them. The mortal's pale eyes and self-satisfied smirk burned into Loki's memory as he remembered him. Remembered each pore and wrinkle, the very shade of his irises.

_We will meet again._

He had no time to turn, to breathe, and already, Darcy was gone. She sprinted down the dusty hall and back into her room. After few seconds, she came running back. Another glass exploded just as she was about to reach the threshold upon which Loki stood. Darcy moved to shield her face from the sharp pieces, and Loki stretched his hand forward, a barrier forming, keeping the fragments of glass away form Darcy.

With a completely cold expression, he summoned his magic, the tips of his fingers tingling as he conjured a long, snake-like, green whip. He directed his hand towards the base of the propeller and swung hard. Like a knife piercing through butter, the propeller was almost completely cut of from the rest of the flying object and it moved wildly in the sky. Up, down, left, right, frantically, like a wounded bird. The pilot managed to maneuver it so it landed safely into the desert.

Loki's blazing eyes turned to look at her face, and Darcy _smiled_, beaming at him, like she was having a good time. A small Bifröst snake dangled on her breast, its many pulsing colors playing on her face.

Despite their situation, the god of lies could not help but to grin back at her. Her smile was absolutely contagious. Taking her hand into his, he tugged at it and they ran to the van. Darcy expected bullets to follow each footprint they left in the dry sand, only _nothing_ came their way.

_This is strange. SHIELD won't give up so quickly. Something else is coming._

Slipping into the drivers seat, she aggressively started the engine, and pressed her foot on the gas pedal with all her might. Loki sat beside her, quickly putting his helmet on his head.

The white van flew through the desert, like a falling star, piercing through the dust and leaving a trail. A sinking sensation settled in Darcy's stomach.

_Where am I going?_

After a few moments, out of nowhere, six large black cars drove next to them. As if they welled up from the very sand - so unannounced and so much faster than the old, rusty van Darcy drove. They sped up. Darcy realized they planned to shoot ahead of her and cut their way, eventually surrounding them and blocking their path.

_Idiots!_

In panic, she turned to Loki, and surprise jolted through her when she noticed he was _smiling_. It was a smile filled with eagerness, rouge and _pure_ _mischief_.

'What now?' Darcy asked, her hands stiffly holding onto the steering wheel.

'Just go ahead. And if you can…' Loki leaned to Darcy's awestruck face, '_Go faster_.' he said, murmuring, like they were back on the Thinking Roof.

Deciding the risk was worth it, Darcy removed her eyes from the desert road, and closing her eyes, she leaned and pressed her lips lovingly to Loki's cold ones. His hand came to her face, cupped her cheek and held her in place as he returned her love, stroking her jaw and sliding his thumb to stroke the hollow between her clavicles. Gently, he kissed her bottom lip that was slightly plumper then the upper one, and Darcy grinned in his kiss.

The van hit a larger bump, as if warning them, and they parted, his hand still lingered around her neck and he smiled at her. Glancing up, like he was lying on the roof and counting the stars, he elegantly stretched his arm and opened the window on the top. Like a snake, he slithered out so his entire upper body dangled out of the fast-moving vehicle.

'Loki, what are you _doing!?_' Darcy shouted, her head frantically moving from the road to Loki.

Road, Loki. Road, Loki.

Closing his eyes for a second, Loki summoned his power and felt his pale palms lighting up, until he held something solid - tightly gripped inside his skillful hand. The conjured sharp razors glowed a metallic blue, and Loki threw them to the front tire of the nearest black car. The car went flying in the other way, crashing into another black van along the way. Immediately, they fell behind, disappearing from his sight.

Two down. Four to go.

The smile Darcy wore few minutes ago slowly faded as she heard the helicopter again. _It's impossible!_ Glancing out of the window, she saw it was not the same helicopter that hovered over the glass house. It seemed SHIELD had backup. this one was not black, it was dark blue and had a blood red eagle on the shining metal.

A shiver went down Darcy's spine. Something is _wrong_. The desert before her was nothing but blackness, and the storm clouds were yet to be removed by the strong wind. It seemed they were never ending.

For some strange reason, Darcy kept seeing all the places she wished she could visit, all the people she wished she could meet. The books she wished to read, but did not manage, the films she planned to see. The things she planned to do. They flew past the dirty glass, like eery shadows in the vast land.

_Egypt, Stockholm, Paris, Russia, India… Places she desperately wanted to stand on, discover, smell and taste. _

_Her parents… Was she ever going to see them again?_

_Jane? Erik?_

_Children… Small, playful, running around her._

_Old age… So soft and slow, like slowly approaching dawn, and she cuddled inside her warm bedding with a soft smile, remembering all the wild things she has done. Remembering each second she has spent breathless, really knowing what it felt like to live._

Loki felt it before he heard it. One of those mortal weapons went off. A bullet moved slowly, in Loki's eyes, piercing through the dust and crisp night air. An electric green barrier enveloped around him, and the small bullet repelled from it, returning to the person who send it. It pierced through the dark glass window of the big car. It seemed the driver was hit. In a matter of a few seconds, the car halted so abruptly, it overturned and fell to the side, smoking.

Loki twisted his body on the other side and with unsurpassed skill, threw three more blades. Each was aimed at the wire. One of the cars, the one that was closest, bumped into their own speeding white van. Loki didn't expect the impact to be _so strong_. Darcy, on the other hand, didn't expect impact _at all_.

The white van went flying across the air, skating and scratching on the dry rocky desert. Like long fingernails digging into the worn out blackboard, the van screamed as it's shiny surface was roughly carded across the desert floor.

The moment the van turned over, Loki was thrown out of the opening and he landed violently on the cold ground with a grunt. He rolled inside his green cape, the place where his scar rested throbbed painfully, every nerve pulsing. The fall that would probably kill an average person at the spot, only made Loki's head ring a bit. His helmet was gone.

After few seconds, he realized Darcy was still in the van. Faster than thunder, he got up and mindlessly searched the dark desert. There, on his right - the white van was lying on its side, black smoke rising out of it as if from a chimney. Trying with all his might to calm his nerves, he swallowed thickly and practically flew to it.

Propellers swept over his head, lifting the sand up, making it even harder for him to see. Before he got to the smoking vehicle, through darkness and wind and sand, he saw _her_.

Darcy managed to get to the same opening from which Loki fell out, and slowly, she crawled out of it. Stumbling out clumsily, she carried something. It was Loki's helmet. Somehow, the helmet fell inside the opening when he was thrown back and forth.

No more cars were coming their way. Only the helicopter hovered over the fallen van.

Loki couldn't see her face, it was so dark outside, and the helicopter's brief flashes did not provide him with much light. Loki smiled in relief, the tension in his chest and shoulders loosening when he finally saw she was standing behind the van, holding his helmet and waving weakly at him to show him she was alright. To Loki, she seemed fine, apart from a small gash on her forehead.

Darcy tried to move around the smoking van, her dark pea coat dusty. Even from this distance, Loki saw the Bifröst glinting on her chest. It gave him comfort, as he swiftly walked in her direction, bathed in the darkness of the night, the light from the helicopter's lamp never falling onto his dark form, but hovering over the van.

Then, something happened.

Whether it was triggered by the glint of the golden helmet Darcy carried, or the shine of the necklace around her neck, Loki did not know. But someone from the flying beast started to fire. Directly where Darcy stood.

'NO!'

_Who's shouting? _Darcy's mind was still ringing from the crash, her balance was rocked, her feet unsteady. But even with all of that, she knew the scream carried a warning.

In the chaos of the wasteland the god and the mortal found themselves in, bullets flew like rain. And Loki saw Darcy throw herself back behind the van, trying to escape the metal tempest. The storm of flying bullets seemed never ending, as Loki rolled on the floor, trying with all his might to send a shield over Darcy. The night was so dark. He couldn't see. Nothing. Nothing at all.

The god of lies took part in thousands of battles. Against so many enemies and foes, but never in his long life, has he felt this distraught, this lost in the fierce rage of battle. Maybe it was because he had nothing, absolutely nothing to lose in _Vanaheim, Niflheim, Helheim_… Nothing to lose in those distant realms. But here, in this moment, all his attention, all his care and worry rested upon Darcy Lewis.

Then, it stopped. The last bullet shot to the sand a few feet away form him, and Loki stood up carefully. Then, with all his might, he conjured the whip again, this time longer and thicker, and brandished it towards the helicopter. He hit the engine and cut off two propellers. The pilot who controlled this helicopter was not as lucky as the last one, and he came crashing much faster, hitting the ground so violently it caught fire and exploded.

Parts of it flew violently, in every direction, burning. Squinting desperately against the darkness and wind, his cape blowing wildly, he hunched and called '_Darcy_?'

The sand and smoke had no intention to fall down, so with a slow movement of his hand, Loki moved the thick sand from his path, like he was parting the curtains of a stage in theatre.

His lip twitched in a smile as he saw Darcy standing up, albeit shakily. _Thank Valhalla! _With his hands smoothing back his black hair, and a laugh almost bursting from his throat, Loki took long steps towards her.

'Darcy-' Loki laughed, his deep voice relieved. 'Come! We have to move away from-'

_Just two more feet and I will have you safely in my arms!_

He saw his helmet, glinting it the burning sand just next to Darcy's feet. And just as he was about to look up and into her face, something caught his eye.

A small puddle of crimson red, like the color of the deepest, ripest wine spilled at her boots, dripping from her right leg.

Green eyes of the god of mischief filled with shock, as he slowly looked up.

The rest happened in a blur. Like some saturated water color painting.

Darcy now stood before him, rocking ever so slowly back and forth, like a dry leaf in the cold autumn, reluctant to part from the tree. She held her head high in a desperate attempt to meet his emerald gaze, her full lips parted ever so slightly. She was paler than a ghost, and her arms were shaking.

Loki felt his heart tearing in half and his chest filling with a sensation he never felt before. Like a cruel concoction of wrath, shock, sadness and unquenchable anger.

The side of her pale arched neck was graced with a large gash where a bullet grazed her. Blood fell from it slowly, like a silent stream in a cursed forest. Her jean-clad thigh was pierced right through, blood gushing out of it, and dripped down, creating a puddle at her feet. Moving up, as if in slow motion, he saw another hole made by the cursed bullet. It was just above her heart, close to her shoulder, but lower.

On the very _edge of life and death_.

'Loki-' Darcy whimpered, and as she spoke, a small torrent of crimson red, ran in the corner of her beautiful lips. Brown eyes unfocused as she fought with all her might to stay on her feet, and soon, her knees buckled, her wounded leg giving out, and she fell to her knees before the god of mischief.

Her glasses fell from the bridge of her nose.

Feeling blood and a surge of godly power running through his body, Loki caught her before her knees touched the desert sand, and his strong arm supported her back. She simply fell into his arms, like a rag doll. The arch of Darcy's neck spasmed and convulsed as her throat filled with hot blood, the bitter coppery smell reaching Loki's nostrils, as her head leaned on his armor clad forearm.

'Oh, Valhalla-' Loki choked as he held her, unable to say anything else 'Darcy! Look at me.'

Brown pools went in and out of focus, and before he knew what he was witnessing, Darcy choked a sob. The pain he felt inside him was bigger and stronger than the one he felt while chained on a rock.

'_For the love of-_' he choked again, pressing his palms on he wound on her tight.

Breathing thickly throughout his clenched teeth, Loki grasped the back of Darcy's knees, and shifted her easily, so she lay pressed to him completely. His eyes were wild, searching her white face, checking every single part of her.

Faster than the hot blood pumping out of her wounds, tears spilled out of Darcy's eyes, running down her cheeks and over the metal on his forearms that held her back, neck and head.

'Loki-' she whimpered, crying '_Loki_-' She tried to yell his name, but gurgled slightly 'Help me-'

Blood pounded in Loki's head, and there it _boiled_, sending him in a fit of rage. He moved his hands over her body, trying to find a spell strong enough to close her wounds, but his mind was blank, and nothing came.

His fists clenched and shook in anger as grasped upper body and lifted it gently.

'Darcy-' he held her face now 'L-Listen to my voice!' He quivered, as his chest heaved with breaths he took. All the possessiveness came bursting at the black door of his mind, and for a moment, he felt… out of control.

_He felt that, if she perished - so would the small amount of sanity he still held inside._

'I-' She whispered to him, her eyes now half-lidded as she moved her hand to his cold one, and moved it to her heart. The paleness of the tips of his long fingers smeared in her hot blood, as she guided him to take hold of her necklace.

'_I have no freedom without you._' She tired to grin, her teeth stained red. And her smile was still beautiful.

Loki tired to crack a grin, but his sharp features showed only wild pain, and grief. Leaning desperately into her, he brought her body closer to his, and kissed her lips fiercely, hugging her and holding her in his protective embrace. Her body felt so weak, so desperately limp against his hard form and wide, powerful shoulders.

The trickster wanted to throw away the gift of immortality he was given all those centuries ago, only to give it to her.

To make her breathe, to make her smile, to make her _live_ again.

Shallow breaths flew through her pared lips and Loki saw her eyes flutter, rolling into her skull.

_They will never look at you. Never again._

'Darcy-' he said 'Darcy!' He now growled her name like a caged animal, his lips quivering with sadness and rage. Loki hugged her waist tighter, clinging to her. Feeling the life leaving her body, he leaned his forehead to her own and gritted his teeth, trying to muffle the angry roar he felt building in his chest, bursting from his throat like an angry tide.

'_DARCY!_'

The yellow moon was almost completely up, shining over their heads, and the wind blew harder, as if announcing a _very _dramatic entrance. He knew _they_ crawled above his head the entire time, just waiting for the full moon.

Loki _felt_ them coming.

Not sparing the opening sky even a fleeting glance, he glared at the sand before him, his eyes darkening to a frightening black. The very desert Darcy saved him from. And he held her body in his quivering arms, tears sliding down his prominent cheekbones, falling onto her dark green t shirt.

The portal to another galaxy stretched over his head, threatening to swallow him up at any second, just like the angry shadow that already enveloped him, thicker and heavier than ever. Cruel, wild and unforgiving.

**AN: The story is just starting, my lovelies.**


	18. Chapter 18

**AN: Hello everyone! Thank you for your beautiful response! I hope you enjoy this one! Please review!**

**Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Marvel.**

* * *

Chapter 18

The air buzzed around the kneeling god of mischief. It sparked like a star and trembled like an earthquake.

The whirlpool twisted above him. Wind blew harder as the hole in the opening sky above his head grew larger and dried the black tears upon his cheeks. The face of the trickster never felt tighter and angrier, his eyes burning a hole through the sand. Taking a deep breath, he looked down, feeling neither fear nor hesitance.

It was the silence before the big impact. Still, quiet and frightening beyond words.

To him, she looked like she was sleeping. _Just sleeping._

Darcy's eyes were closed. The delicate arch of her dark eyelashes and the paleness of the flesh of her neck held Loki's attention for a few moments and he realized… _It is over._

The black hand of maddening grief took hold of his throat, crushing it in its torpid hold.

Without a word, without a whimper, without a choke or a sigh, Loki shifted Darcy in his arms and rose slowly to his feet, cradling and carrying her broken and bleeding body in his arms. Her head bobbed from side to side, rolling on his upper arm, weightless and relaxed.

Her dark, long locks twisted, falling over his armor, dancing in the wind.

He looked like a threatening dark mountain, green cape swaying. Taking a few steps away from the white van, with great care and gentleness, he lowered Darcy onto the hot ground. Just as he was about to _kneel before her_, a vein of dark power burst from the twisting hole in the sky. It frighteningly resembled a human nerve - tendrils pulsing in yellows, greens and blues.

_Do not think you can make us wait too long, Asgardian. You shall be transported to His army once the moon is full and shining above your head. Then, the only way you shall be able to get back to Earth is with them at your command and an order to fulfill._

And suddenly, there was no time. No time to touch her lips with his own, no time to hold her cold hand in his, no time to embrace her.

Loki felt the dark light pulling him in. And up.

His helmet clanked on the sapless ground, as the power pulled it together with the body of the god of mischief. And he flew. With an expression of agony in his green eyes, he observed as his fingertips brushed Darcy's wrist, trying desperately to hold her hand.

Something fluttered beneath his fingers. A small tremor.

Before another thought could past through his mind, he was sucked in the hole in the dark night's sky. Everything around him was mute and moved in slow-motion.

As he was snatched by the hand of the Other, he saw it - the burning remains of the fallen helicopter, the smoking black cars, the overturned white van, scorched sand and mountains upon mountains of dark dust. And there, for the last time, green orbs gazed upon the unmoving form of Darcy Lewis. She lay there, like a wounded valkyrie, so pale, so still and so beautiful.

_Mine. Only mine. My lady Darcy._

The god of lies was completely numb, his head pulsing as he exited the door of this world, this galaxy, this time. And, faster than lightning, he traveled through the vast space, carried in the arms of the devil with whom he made the unbreakable vow, the deadly deal, the unforgiving contract.

Traveling to Him. To the misty embrace of this… _evil_.

This dark malice and insatiable greed.

This cold judgment and heartless lies.

This cruel intentions.

_Thanos_.

…

A blue light. Glass stairs. The air that felt heavy with whispers and hisses of an eager mercenary army. The air polluted by the mighty metal screech of the old _Leviathans_, ready to fly.

_'The Tesseract has awakened.' _Spoke the voice of the Other. A distant, distorted and depraved voice, trembling with the long years and lies as the servant of Thanos.

_'It is on a little world. A human world. They would wield its power,'_ The voice strained and growled _'But our ally knows its workings as they never will.'_

Loki recalled standing in a large vast space, surrounded by rocks of unnatural color. He stood there, surrounded by darkness. And although he saw no one around him, he _felt_ them _lurking_. Thousands upon thousands of poisoned souls just _waiting_ to see the new ally of their one master, the one that shall command them, take them to their beloved battlefield and, at last, _unleash_ them.

Six sickly grey fingers handed him the _scepter_.

A large sea-colored gem shined in the cold silver and metal of the curved, razor sharp blade, like an eerily still eye. The eye that could, with only one blink, make the entire length of the scepter gleam and emanate a blow of such power, it burned through rock, metal and flesh.

The scepter fed on the rage of the person who wielded it. In order for the scepter to work, one had to feel anger. And Loki knew he was _boiling_ with it.

_'He is ready to lead. And our force, our Chitauri, will follow.'_

The Chitauri were neither machines nor creatures. They were a misshapen product, a monstrous result of Thanos' dark, unhealthy imagination. His tool, his weapon, his _children_.

'The world will be his. The universe yours. And the _humans_, what can they do, but _burn_?'

…

Not long after Loki was given the scepter, he was presented with new clothes. Dark, worn leather and metal felt heavier on his shoulders than his old Asgardian armor. He moved like a shadow, broader and taller than before. And so much more menacing. The green and black color remained as his main characteristic, only it was a darker shade than before, and more suited for war than as an indicator of eminence or nobility.

Loki took the scepter in his hand, and wandered the ravaged kingdom of the Other. His heavy boots thumped against the rocky ground as he walked slowly, small poofs of silver dust rising with each step. He walked determinedly, until he reached the edge of the realm. The edge so much different than the one in Asgard. This one had neither the ocean, wind, nor waves. Everything was perfectly still, and the fall from it seemed much deeper.

The god of mischief let go of the scepter, and it landed on the ground beside him with a thud. Soon after, Loki followed it as he fell onto his knees. Long pale fingers soon found his slicked ink hair, and he gripped it, his knuckles cracked, his fists shaking as if in a fever.

_'The fine fabric of his mind shall wear thin, for that kind of agony must be a slashing knife like the one warriors wield.' he remembered hearing his mother murmur as she soothed his wounds, her voice lulling him to sleep. _

A sharp intake of breath through clenched teeth was all he could take.

_'Loki, this is madness!' Thor growled in disbelief, blue eyes afraid of his younger brother. 'Is it madness?' Loki took a sharp breath as he quivered 'Is it?' Baring his teeth he snarled 'IS IT? Come on, what happened on Earth that turned you so, soft? Don't tell me it was that woman!'_

Loki's eyes closed tightly, his head shaking from side to side, trying to shut it all out.

_'There are no men like you, Loki.' Darcy whispered with a smile, her eyes half-lidded and only an inch from his own. Then, she stretched her neck higher, and eagerly met his lips._

Loki felt his heart beating faster than ever.

_'I've changed.' Thor uttered, his proud forehead high. 'So have I.' Loki lightly answered, and then swung Gungnir across Thor's cheek, leaning forward to his… brother. 'Now fight me!'_

His blood pounded violently in his head.

_'I could have done it, father! I could have done it! For you! For all of us!'_

His mind twisted and convulsed, his sanity choking.

_'So, how dare you say you don't deserve my love!?' she spat in his face, her brown eyes glazed with tears and passion 'When I have no freedom without you.'_

At that moment, something broke inside Loki. Seemingly, beyond repair. It broke, and black liquid leaked out of it. It filled his frozen heart, his limbs, his vision. It fed his building anger, it taunted his mind until it stood on the very _edge_.

'_You will pay._' He murmured deeply to the floor as he swore his revenge.

Loki lifted his head slowly, his clenching fingers finally relaxing, letting go of his black locks. A small sparkle shined in his tear-filled eyes, mischief dancing around him faster than ever. And then, a deep, husky, and utterly mad chuckle burst from his dry lips. It stretched to a full grin. A deviant, twisted, sick smile.

The smile that showed how _insane_ he has become.

He stood up, and dusted his knees casually. Then, he bended down, and picked up his scepter, bringing it closer to his face, examining the glow in the dark, his angled head high, sharp features more prominent than ever. A small chuckle burst from his chest, as he swung the scepter twice beside him, feeling its weight, the coldness of the handle, the sharpness of the curved tip. He stood proud, shoulders angled, face determined. Excitement shined in his eyes. Green orbs gleamed darkly with the new found purpose.

'Oh yes.' He smiled maniacally '_You will all pay_.'


	19. Chapter 19

**AN: And now we enter the official second part of the story. I hope you'll enjoy this chapter! I would love to thank everyone who reviewed! You are all too kind! While I wrote this chapter I listened to (type to you tube if you wish): **

** Dark Knight Rises Trailer 3 Music Hans Zimmer A Fire Will Rise**

**The Dark Knight Rises - Nokia Trailer Music  
**

**Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Marvel.**

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Chapter 19

_Holy water cannot help you now _

_A thousand armies couldn't keep me out _

_I don't want your money _

_I don't want your crown _

_See I've come to burn _

_Your kingdom down _

_And no rivers and no lakes, can put the fire out _

_I'm gonna raise the stakes; I'm gonna smoke you out _

_And now all your love will be exorcised _

_And we will find your sayings to be paradox _

_And it's an even sum _

_It's a melody _

_It's a battle cry _

_It's a symphony _

_Seven devils all around you _

_Seven devils in your house _

_See I was dead when I woke up this morning _

_I'll be dead before the day is done _

_Before the day is done._

* * *

The large building of the remote research facility glowed in the darkness of the cold night. Located in the middle of nowhere and built like a fortress, it was completely off limits to civilians. No one knew what it was – only that it was well-guarded and mysterious.

In the very center of the large complex, deep in the ground, far beneath the surface, in the steel belly of the main laboratory, glowed a blue cube.

Frosty and smoking, it was attached to a giant metal console, an installation which monitored and check every single movement or radiation the cube produced.

_The Tesseract._

Dozens of scientist and physicists bustled around it, clicking on computers, talking, scribbling onto their note-pads. Their white-clad forms moved diligently.

All were restless, all were worried.

But none of them felt fear gripping their very bones as intensely as Clint Barton. The sick blue glow of the ancient relic shined in his worried eyes. He sat with his hands crossed on the metal bridge that overlooked the entire large room. Just like a silent hawk, he observed everything, the occasional hum of the blue cube sending shivers down his spine, making him tighten his hold on his black gun. He closed his eyes in irritation as he silently cursed himself for not bringing his bow and arrows.

Something was coming. Something big. And Clint was not sure if he wanted to be here when it happened.

His worried thoughts were interrupted when a dark man, all clad in black stepped into the large room.

'Talk to me, doctor.' Fury's voice echoed of the metal walls.

Barton saw Erik Selvig hurrying in the direction of Director Fury.

Doctor Selvig arrived at the research facility on Monday morning, still tired from the long flight from the cold Norway. Once he walked in, and gazed upon their laboratory, he remained there as if hypnotised. Barton didn't like him. Not at all. The old man was as grey and dry as old paper, his eyes shining in silent obsession.

And he was _alone_.

Barton recalled overhearing the conversation between Fury and Jane Foster. It happened half an hour after Erik Selvig arrived. There was a lot of shouting as Miss Foster tried to explain to Fury she needed _no_ protection, they couldn't keep her in Tromsø forever, that she had the right to be a part of the research on the cube as a scientist and a new member of SHIELD!

Fury hung up after a few minutes, sighing. His last words to her were one of apology as he explained Thor had his conditions about keeping her safe and Fury needed to respect them.

'Where's Agent Barton?' Fury spoke up, his hands at his hips as he restlessly shifted on his spot.

'The Hawk?' Selvig asked coldy, his tired pale eyes observing Fury '_Up in his nest, as usual._' He pointed behind him.

'Agent Barton, report to me.'

The next moment, Barton disappeared, his mind relieved from the troubling thoughts. He slipped through the sea of working people and arrived at Fury's side.

Instantly, Fury spoke, his tone on edge 'I _gave_ you this detail so you could keep a close eye on things.'

'Well,' Clint smirked 'I see better from a distance.'

Clint knew what he was talking about. Only one hour of diligent monitoring from above, and already, his quick mind made crucial observations.

'Are you seeing anything that might set this thing off?' asked Fury.

Before Barton could open his mouth, a blonde scientist picked up strange reading from the cube. 'Doctor, it's spiking again.'

Quickly, with a hypnotized expression on his rugged face, Selvig hurried to the nearest computer, hunching over it as a predator might over its prey.

'No one's come or gone. It's oven is clean. No contacts, no I.M.'s.' Barton said as he adjusted his gun, looking at Fury with the corner of his eye. '_If there was any tampering, sir, it wasn't at this end._'

Fury seemed to age 10 years from when Clint last saw him. Director blinked once, his dry lips parting in wonder '_At this end?_'

Barton kept his cold expression check as he turned towards the cube 'Yeah, the cube is a doorway to the other end of space, right?' He looked back at Fury '_The doors open from both sides._'

Neither Barton nor Fury noticed the expression of horror that consumed Selvig's face as he checked the readings on the computer.

The blue cube glowed threateningly, shaking as it shrieked. And before anyone could blink, a cyanic beam of misty light burst from the cube and right to the big metal dais in the back of the large room.

All lights fluttered as the large hall was suddenly enveloped in darkness. Only the emergency lights shined in unnatural azure shade from the ground. Four fiery heaters emitted an orange glow in the corner of the great chamber.

In this pin-dropping silence, shocked eyes watched in anticipation as _something_ formed on the metal platform.

The radiating blue turned darker and _someone_ was kneeling on the platform, mist dancing around him. The dark, hunched silhouette was rigid, the dark head bowed down.

Slowly, his face lifted to the light. Dark green sunken eyes smiled, and a delighted grin welled up on the tight face of this… _visitor_. A proud, pale forehead was covered in a sheen of heavy perspiration as it straightened up.

The room was filled with nothing but his labored breathing. When the man narrowed his darkened eyes, his smile falling from his face, Clint shakily aimed his gun at the person. He knew he must have seen this man somewhere.

_In a nightmare, filled with sand… and wind_.

Slowly, like a menacing shadow, he stood up to his full frightening height, bathed in the appalling light. He held a sharp spear, a weapon.

Clint almost jumped out of his skin as Fury spoke loudly 'Sir, _please_, put _down_ the spear!' Directors arms were in front of him.

Everyone in the room held their breath, stepping back.

The visitor regarded the entire room with cold, heartless expression, his white lips parted as he drew big breaths, his broad armored chest heaving, the small movements making his dark weapon glint in the darkness.

Then, he looked down at his gripping fist that held the cold spear. With a flash in his eyes, he looked back up, a positively _daring_ expression on his sharp face. It taunted – _Make me. _Baring his white even teeth in anger, the man pulled his left arm back, the spear and the blue gem directed at the Director. Pushing it in front of himself, the scepter sizzled and then boomed as the blast of blue exploding light flew with blinding speed to where Barton and Fury stood.

Clint knew what was coming, and he threw himself on the Director, pushing them both out of the way. The explosion missed them by an inch, burning whatever it was that stood on its way.

After that, Clint rolled onto his side, and behind a giant metal table. From this perspective, he could observe the movements of the enemy.

Already, the man jumped from the dais with unnatural speed and practically flew over the entire large room. As he moved through the air, like a demon, agents opened fire on him. A shower of loud bullets followed him, but none touched him. His spear was in front of him and as he landed, and sunk it deeply into the chest of the unfortunate man who fired at him with a machine gun. A sickening sound of metal sinking into hot flesh filled Clint's ears, making him cringe while he loaded his gun.

Another agent set off his weapon, and before he could blink, the enemy turned swiftly, and as he twirled, he released a thin dagger. It elegantly flew, slicing through the air, and it plunged right into agent's throat.

Clint couldn't do anything, and already, the man shot another blow of power to the computers in the left corner of the room, sending three scientist flying through the air. Another agent tried to get close, but the man whipped his spear to the side and slashed through the agents chest, blood splashing the metal ground.

_He took all of them down._

Barton drew a sharp breath, and jumped beside two agents. All three of them pointed their guns at the man and started shooting.

Just like Barton feared, the man whipped and met his eyes. His green pools burned darkly, flashing in _madness_ as blocked their bullets with invisible shield, and returned the blast of power once again, sending it flying towards them, his furious face frightening.

Barton managed to throw himself to the side in time, but his two colleagues were not as lucky. They burned as the power swept through them. With an angry kick of his long leg, the enemy showed away a large agent, and he crashed to the steel wall and fell, lying there motionless.

Once again, the room fell silent. Bullets stopped flying. The cube hummed softly.

The man was still breathing heavily, his posture rigid, hands stretched to the side in a fighting attitude as he observed his surroundings. Silver sparks sizzled from the damaged computers, people sprawled across the ground. Blood dripped on the steel floor and dribbled down his blade.

Barton crawled across the broken ground and took hold of the blade he held in his boot. Getting up, he turned around, and swung.

Something halted Barton's movements, as the arm that held the knife was roughly stopped. The cold metal of the man's forearm armor almost breaking Clint's bones.

With his proud chin held high, the man narrowed his green eyes, leaning closer to Clint. Deeply, with a husky, dangerous tone in his deep voice, the enemy spoke.

'_You have heart._' He inclined his head, as if complimenting Barton. Before Clint could take another breath, the man pointed the curved tip of the scepter to where his heart rested, beating rapidly a river of blood and adrenaline.

A blue light spread like a plague from the shining gem, to the tip, flowing through Clint's skin, reaching his veins, his nerves, crawling towards his mind, and announcing its arrival with an eerie flash in his eyes. They were consumed in deep black color. Slowly, they turned azure and resembled the very cube that still hummed beside them, creating a scary background music.

For a brief moment, Clint Barton forgot who he was. Forgot his name, where he came from, what he believed in… what was his purpose?

His mind was clouded with dark power. Controlling, stern and treacherous.

His eyes looked at the person who held his strings. His puppet master. Instantly, he pocketed his gun.

Now, all that remained in his head was his name, memories, knowledge and skills. But everything else was brutally removed. The biggest gap of emptiness was the one where his emotions used to rest.

_Natasha…_

…

Still tingling with excitement, his lust for blood quenched at least a little bit, Loki swung his scepter in his hand with skillful movements, smiling in pleasure when he saw Clint Barton's mind being brutally mangled.

Turning on his heel, he went to two other agents, and relished the sight of their shocked faces as they succumbed to his powers.

The god of mischief sensed the dark man crawling on the floor to the Tesseract, trying to steal it while Loki was busy. Already, the dark man was on his feet, the cube safe inside his briefcase, as he attempted to walk out of the lab.

'Please don't.' Loki's voice was calm, but dangerous '_I still need that._'

When he heard the icy demand of the visitor, he halted, and with his back turned, he spoke 'This doesn't have to get any _messier_.'

Loki wanted to blast the insolent mortal, his fingers twitching, but he remained calm.

'Of course it does. I've come too far for anything else.' Loki breathed, his chin high '_I am Loki of Asgard…_' Sunken eyes narrowed '…_and I am burdened with glorious purpose._'

A man spoke to Loki's left as he shakily got to his feet, the rugged face somewhat familiar to him. The trickster saw him somewhere, but couldn't remember where

'_Loki? Brother of Thor?_'

Again, his insides burned at the mention of his brother.

_These pathetic mortals have no idea how thin the ice they are so impudently dancing on is…_

'We have no quarrel with your people.' The man who held the Tesseract spoke carefully, and Loki sensed a tremor crawling in the rumbling notes of his scared voice.

'An ant-' he tilted his head mockingly '-has no quarrel with a boot.'

'You planning to step on us?' True confusion graced Fury's face.

'I come with glad tidings…' Loki stepped forward, smiling slightly '…of a world made free.'

'Free from what?' A tint of brashness entered Fury.

'Freedom.' Loki spoke, not blinking, and he felt his heart speeding up, the gentle memory bursting through the silver gate of his mind.

_'Freedom.' Darcy scoffed. 'Let me tell you something about freedom.' Brown eyes burned intensely. 'For years, I've been studying and reading the history of my planet and the cultures that lived here.'_

_There was no force that could remove Loki's gaze from Darcy's passionate face._

_'Thousands of battles raged the Earth, millions of lives were lost. For hundreds of years, all in the name of freedom.' Disgust surged inside Darcy 'But, somehow, that freedom was never achieved. Never.' she gave a humorless laugh 'Always behind it stood greed, rapacity and hunger for power.'_

Green eyes burned at the face of the dark man.

'Freedom is life's great lie. Once you accept that, in your heart...' he swiftly turned to face the man who mentioned Thor.

_Erik Selvig._

Placing the sharp tip against his heart '...You will know peace.' He whispered, and another mortal fell under his control. The pain burst in Loki's side, where his scar rested. Loki's eyebrows lifted on his hollow face. The face of obsession.

_Will Darcy ever know peace? Will she ever find her resting star in this cruel, unforgiving universe?_

'Yeah, you say _peace_, but I kind of think you mean the other thing.'

A misty cloud of Tesseract's power swirled above their heads, and rumbled, announcing an explosion.

'Sir, Director Fury is stalling.' Clint cut in, walking to Loki's side 'This place is about to blow. Drop a hundred feet of raw material. He means to bury us.'

Loki's face whipped back to Fury's arrogant expression.

'_Like the pharaohs of old__._' Fury said coldly, still holding onto the briefcase that contained the Tesseract close to him.

Selvig was already in front one of the computers that survived the heated fighting. 'He's right, the portal is collapsing in on itself. You got maybe two minutes before this goes critical.'

Loki turned to Barton and gave his ruthless order '_Drop him._'

And before Fury could blink, Barton shot him and he fell to the ground, his black leather creating a dark halo around his large fallen body. Director tried desperately to hold onto the precious briefcase, but, already, Clint crouched down and pried it from his loose fingers.

Barton, Selvig and a few of SHIELD personnel under his control followed Loki, and he noticed how he grew tired with each step he took. His body was weary of the forceful travel between realms. A hand of one of the agents came to rest on his back and he shuddered inwardly, disgusted by the uninvited touch of this _mortal_ stranger.

He jerked away from his hand, squeezing the scepter in his fist.

_'Here- let me-' she reached to touch his forearm that clenched itself over his abdomen. The moment her fingers brushed his amour clad forearm, he screamed._

_'Don't you dare touch me, creature!' he gritted through his teeth in rage and pain._

Guild bubbled up inside his throat, and Loki swallowed angrily, as he remembered _the very first words_ he ever spoke to her. He screamed at her, insulted her.

Memories flew through his head like a flock of black ravens, and Loki realized something - as much as the flashbacks made his insides writhe in pain that was still very fresh, he cherished them. He cherished these soft recollections because they brought _her _back to his thoughts.

And the memory of Darcy Lewis only amplified his already strong motivation.

His thoughts were interrupted as he heard a crack of the mortals contacting device, and the strained tone of Director Fury screamed from the other end to his female colleague.

'_Hill, do you copy? Barton is-_'

The bullets flew once again, and Loki stood up, leaning onto the fast-moving car as it drove through the shadowy tunnels, and towards the outside world.

He closed his eyes, preparing for another worthless chase. Another distraction and another tiring obstacle he had to go through in order to fulfill what he intended.

And the god of mischief borrowed his anger to the scepter once again, sending the power towards the vehicles that chased him.

_And they really think they can catch me._

It was not long before they welled up to the surface, and his green, tired eyes greeted the new moon.

The crisp air soothed his wet face, making him close his eyes and remember the night he dangled out of the white van, chased by the very people who were now under his control… and his mercy.

…

_Director? Director Fury, do you copy?_

_The Tesseract is with the hostile force. I have men down. Hill?_

_A lot of men still under, don't know how many survivors._

_Sound the general call, I want every living soul not needing rescue looking for that briefcase._

_Roger that._

_Coulson, get back to base. This is a level seven. As of right now, we are at war._

_What do we do?_

Coulson's mind still ringed with the last conversation he had with Maria Hill and Nick Fury. Inside his grey and green irises glowed a silent flame from the remains of the burned and ashen research facility.

The description of the man who took down one of the most guarded buildings owned by SHIELD still chilled Coulson's bones.

Coulson sat on the ground, feeling nausea gripping him. He closed his eyes and placed his palms over them as he remembered.

...

_The nights sky rumbled and wind blew harder when he and four other agents quickly drove to inspect what happened. SHIELD's cars were smoking, a helicopter burned in the distance, and finally, after a few moments of looking, they saw the white van._

'_Hurry!' Coulson yelled at the driver, and when they slowed down, Phil practically jumped out of the van, his violently beating heart pounding in his head._

_He looked to the sky, left, right, down._

_The horizon stretched endlessly, until his shocked eyes fell to a pale, unmoving body._

'_Someone, call for help!'_

_...  
_

Phil Coulson felt he made a mistake.

A crucial mistake.

And now, the devil came knocking on his door.

**AN: Please, review! And the song from the beginning is Seven Devils - Florence + The Machine (one of my personal favorites) For me, this particular song is an 'anthem' for the second phase/part of Ink and Parchment :)  
**


	20. Chapter 20

**AN: Guys... I'm actually exhausted and so happy to present chapter 20. I honestly can not believe it ! It seemes only yesterday that I published chapter one. And trust me, with the storyline inside my head - I would not be surprised if I end up with 40 chapters XD**

**I love you all so much!**

**While I wrote this I listened to (you tube please): **

**Olafur Arnalds - Og Lengra**

**The Dark Knight Rises OST (Deluxe) - The End - Hans Zimmer**

**Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Marvel.**

* * *

Chapter 20

_And is it worth the wait_

_All this killing time?_

_Are you strong enough to stand_

_Protecting both your heart and mine?_

_Who is the betrayer?_

_Who's the killer in the crowd?_

_The one who creeps in corridors_

_And doesn't make a sound._

* * *

A faint sound of honing metal brushed interrupted Loki's thoughts. He sat in the corner of the great cavern-like room. Like a dark mountain, his back hunched, elbows on his knees, he observed the busting room filled with people.

All of them under his control.

Immediately, his sunken eyes reduced to slits when he met the stony face of agent Barton. He discussed something with Erik Selvig.

The god of mischief felt silent hatred towards both men. It stirred slowly.

One of them tried to murder Darcy. The other abandoned her.

There was no time to dwell on his thoughts, and already, he felt cold hands grasping his shoulders, pulling him back and his eyes closed, as he swayed on his spot.

The blue eye of his faithful scepter shined, singing to him that twisted melody.

The melody that blocked out the terrifying ticking of their life-clocks, the eerily silent whispering of sand in delicate hourglasses of their limited time.

When he opened his eyes, the mortal-infested dark room evaporated before him. He found himself in some strange nightmare. Small stars welled up on the surface of the dirty walls. The warm color of terracotta turned dark blue, and the voices were shut from him. Their faces blurred.

Once again, he found himself in the kingdom of Other.

'_The Chitauri grow restless._' Thanos' servant spoke.

Loki paced, his horned helmet gleaming proudly. 'Let them go at themselves. I will lead them into a _glorious_ battle.'

A mechanical hiss of the Other's breathing whispered all around Loki. The repulsive grey skin of his aged face was taunt. When the Other opened the fleshy cavern of his lying mouth, Loki felt disgust surging inside him, and he gripped the scepter harder in his crushing fist.

'Battle?' The creature snorted mockingly 'Against the _meager_ might of _Earth_?'

Meager. Yes. But also unparalleled in its beauty, like a dying star, fighting to hold onto its very existence with fair hands, but failing to catch it.

There was a reason the Nine realms were so far away from Thanos' kingdom. While gods and mortals had their diversities, the twisted nation that belonged to Thanos was so different from _all_ the other races of cosmos, they chose to _live_ as far from everyone as possible. Their cruelty and truculence were infinite.

And so they remained isolated. Alone.

'Glorious, not lengthy.' A corner of Loki's mouth lifted in a smirk 'If your force is as _formidable_ as you claim.'

This seemed to have touched a painful nerve . The Other angrily disappeared from his spot and formed behind a giant stone, gripping its ancient surface with twelve grey fingers.

'_You question us?_ You question _him_?' He hissed incredulously 'He, who put the scepter in your _hand_, who gave you ancient _knowledge_ and _new purpose_ when you were cast out, _defeated_?'

A yell burst from Loki's mouth before he could control its fiery nature, his green eyes pale in the unnatural light of this forgotten planet.

'I was a king, the rightful king of Asgard!' Loki stared at the Other '_Betrayed_.'

'Your ambition is _little_, born of _childish_ need.' The creature sneered '_We_ look _beyond_ the Earth to greater worlds the Tesseract will unveil.'

Mischief pushed Loki and he said the following words in satisfaction, a small smile playing on his thin lips '_You don't have the Tesseract yet._'

The bloody mouth of the Other stretched in a silent snarl, and he flew to Loki's tall form, hissing, six fingers of his right hand like a claw a few inches from Loki's face. His metal and cotton robes flew around him, his eyes hidden by a heavy helmet.

'I don't threaten…' Loki spoke quietly '…but until _I_ open the doors, until your force is _mine_ to _command_…' The trickster said smoothly, but inside his green eyes a flame burned '…_you are but words_.'

Loki swore the Other nodded slightly, letting his hand fall to his side elegantly. The Other slowly took a step back and started pacing around Loki. The trickster refused to turn and follow his poisonous, soundless steps.

'You will have your war, _Asgardian_.' The Other continued with a growl, something more than just threat there. It was fear, a maddening fear of his master.

'_If_ you fail, _if_ the Tesseract is kept from _us_, there will be no realm, no barren moon, no crevice _where he can't find you_.'

Loki stared in front of himself, his horned helmet suddenly very heavy on his troubled head. He did not blink, did not dare to retreat when he felt the chemical stench of the Other behind himself.

'You think you know _pain_?' The creature whispered by his ear in mock gentleness, lifting his six appalling fingers 'He will make you _long_ for something _sweet_ as _pain_.'

The hand of the Other, the one who had given Loki the very scepter which he now held, roughly pushed against the door of his mind. Pain burst in the back of his head, and he gritted his teeth as his mind returned to Earth.

The memory that played before him now seemed so distant. So far away. He blinked away the white spots of blinding pain in his head, and now, his fury seemed to have intensified.

He got up with great speed, graceful and agile. He took swift steps as he walked. He passed next to the working people, and they sensed him, for he was in complete control of their minds. Bowing their heads in fear of him as he walked by, all this world-renown doctors and scientist were afraid to meet his emerald gaze. With his head held high, not meeting their pathetic expressions, he walked next to them.

Oh, how he _hated_ the lot of them.

In the very center of the large room, bathed in fluorescent lights and small sparks of electricity stood Erik Selvig. He and the rest of the team were building a portal necessary to bring the army through to Earth. As soon as his possessed gaze fell on Loki, he moved to the thick, plastic, see-through curtain that separated them.

'Hey!' Selvig smiled gleefully 'This is _wonderful_! The Tesseract has shown me _so much_.' For a moment, Selvig looked like he was going to spill tears of joy

'It's- it's more than knowledge, it's _truth_.'

'I know.' Loki offered him a kind smile that never reached his cold, green gaze 'It- ah- it touches everyone differently.'

Without looking at him, Loki asked sharply 'What did it show _you_ Agent Barton?'

Slowly, Barton turned on his heel, abandoning his work 'My next target.' His eyes shined a pale blue, his smirk the same one he wore that night.

Before Loki could say anything, Selvig laughed loudly, reminding Loki of Volstagg while immersed in boastful tales and drunken stupor.

'Stick in the mud. He's got _no soul_. No wonder you chose this-' he motioned around them '-this _tomb_ to work in.'

'Well, the Radisson doesn't have three levels of lead lined _flooring_ between SHIELD and _that_ Cube.' It seemed Barton's dislike for the doctor peaked and he whipped him with an icy glare.

Selvig nodded sheepishly, defeated by sharp words, returning to his work in silence.

Loki made a crucial observation and voiced his thoughts 'I see why Fury chose _you_ to guard it.'

_Oh, it was not a compliment. It was merely a dark remark. _

'You're going to have to contend with him _sir_. As long as he's in the air, I can't pin him down. And he'll be putting together a _team_.'

_A team?_

Loki and Barton walked side by side, Loki leading the way. Barton had no questions, he simply followed.

'Are they a _threat_?' Loki asked as he strutted proudly, his fingers flexing.

'To _each other_ more than likely. But if Fury can get 'em on track, and he might, they could throw some noise our way.'

_Barton was proving to be most useful._

'You _admire_ Fury.' The god of mischief noted sharply, looking at Barton.

Step by step, they wandered from the large group of scientists and into a quiet, more secluded area.

'He's got a clear line of sight.' Agent Barton said more quietly this time, slowing down and finally stopping when Loki's steps grew faster.

'Is that why you _failed_ to _kill him?_' Loki's arms swung by his sides in anger, the pain still in his head, the repugnant print of the Other's hand lingering.

'It might be.' Barton sighed, his shoulders slumped slightly as he tried to explain himself 'I was disoriented… and I'm not at my best with a gun.'

As he spoke, Loki's steps stretched until he entered the threshold of a dimly lit, wet corridor. He entered alone.

Light shined above, and as the god of lies slowly turned, it lit his furious, sharp face. The demented glimmer in his eyes and his proud forehead shined as he lifted one long, pale forefinger.

'I want to know _everything_ you can tell me about this team of his.' His eyes widened and turned to the ground as the shadows of these team members flew through his head 'I would- _test_ their mettle.'

Loki doubted their courage could overcome his anger.

Clint Barton nodded, not daring to interrupt him while he spoke.

'I am _weary_ of scuttling in shadow.' Loki looked around him, abhorrence evident on his handsome face as it lifted to the ceiling 'I mean to _rule_ this world,' He looked back at Barton, venom seeping out of his lips '_not burrow in it._'

'That's a risk.' A deep crease formed between Clint's eyebrows.

Like a setting moon, his chin descended down as a positively maniacal grin possessed his handsome features. A toothy smile of sick pleasure and eagerness 'Oh _yes_.'

'If you're set on making yourself known, I could be useful.' Clint offered.

Taking a step closer, Loki inclined his head, smile still on his visage. 'Tell me what you need.'

Barton walked over to a case and opened it. The black bow was quickly pulled out and he jerked his fist that held it. 'I need a distraction…' Its sides sprung to life, stretching more than three feet '…and an eyeball.'

Nodding slightly, Loki's smile fell.

_An arrow hit the spot where he used to stand. But, what Loki didn't expect, was to see another sharp arrow flying again so swiftly. There was time for neither illusions nor magic. In the blink of an eye, Loki saw it flew to Darcy's direction, swifter than heavy rain, and he stretched him arm, catching the arrow inside his crushing fist before it dug into her flesh._

_Whipping his proud head to the direction of the helicopter, his green eyes burned with malice as they glared in the face of the man who shot them. The mortal's pale eyes and self-satisfied smirk burned into Loki's memory as he remembered him. Remembered each pore and wrinkle, the very shade of his irises._

_We will meet again._

'Follow me.' Loki's smile was smug, his emerald gaze narrowed.

And the god of lies lead the way through the dark corridor, flickering yellow lights following their steps. They were alone. Loki lead Clint from a wet corridor into a dry and large room. Its ceilings were high, the walls grey and cold. There was nothing but a make-shift bed, a table and a chair. Other than that, everything was clean and bare, cold and _silent_.

Loki sat on the bed, the white covers wrinkling under his weight like a face of an old man.

His sunken eyes observed Clint for a moment, he stood by the door, tense and alert.

'Sit down, Agent Barton.' The god of lies murmured slyly, not moving a muscle. Clint did as he was told, sitting at the chair on the other side of Loki and crossing his muscled arms in front of his black-clad chest.

'Now is the time to tell me more about this… _team_.' Loki murmured.

'Fury _collected_ us for years.' Clint leaned forward, his voice dropping lower. 'This… project of his is called the _Avengers initiative_.'

Loki hummed for him to continue, his sunken eyes watching carefully for each breath Clint took.

'I don't know how many of us are there. But I know I am a part of it.'

'You _were_ a part of it.' Loki corrected lowly. 'You _obey me_ now.'

Clint nodded, his pale eyes searching the floor as he continued 'They don't tell us much. When they need our skills and services, they simply call for us.'

'Like mere _servants_?' Loki's eyes mocked playfully.

'No,' Barton said carefully 'Like members of a team.'

'Ah… team-work.' Loki straightened, shadow falling over him 'Interesting for _you_ to say that, when _I_ only saw you working _alone_.'

'Sir?' Confusion graced Clint's face.

'Do you not _remember_ me?' Murmured the trickster, his eyebrows raised, his arms now propped beside him on the bed.

Barton just stared at Loki, not saying anything.

'Oh come now, Barton.' His smile grew menacingly 'We met before, now haven't we?'

The agent swallowed thickly. Loki impatiently drummed his long fingers on his leather-clad thigh.

'Yes. I remember it now. Um-' Barton shifted his eyes elsewhere, unable to meet the green fire. 'That night, you were with Miss-'

'Shh. Shh.' Loki lifted his eyebrows up, silencing Barton 'We do not play with fire, Agent Barton. We won't mention that night, but more _importantly…_ we won't bring _her_ up unless I say so, understood?'

Barton nodded stiffly, his bare arms coiled like snakes in nervousness.

_The puppet feared its master._

'Avengers initiative…' Trickster smirked cunningly 'Fury seems to be quite a creative man. _Foolish_ and completely _deluded_. But creative.'

Barton said nothing.

'This team of his…' Loki leaned his elbow on his knees, his hand sliding through his slicked back hair, and he swore he felt Darcy's fingers threading delicately over his scalp. His fist tightened. '…Does your… _female_ friend count as a member?'

'Natasha Romanoff?' Clint asked evenly.

'Yes.' Loki hummed, leaning his dark head forward, his long neck straining. 'When I entered your mind, I saw her.'

'Yes.' Barton admitted 'She is a part of the Avengers initiative.' Clint's voice was deep and indifferent.

Emotions were erased from his mind, and it comforted him to change the subject. He did not feel like lingering on the night he attempted to murder Miss Lewis. He eagerly thought of everything he knew of agent Romanoff, just so he could tell Loki and distract him from the subject he _knew _he would insist on.

'How is it that you two met?' Loki asked lightly, as if they were some old friends, enjoying a dinner.

'She was a ruthless murderer with a special skill set. She got in SHIELD's way. I was sent to kill her.' Clint looked at his fingers, clearly remembering the moment they loosened their hold on the strained bow.

'In the end, I spared her life and she became a member of SHIELD.'

Loki stood up slowly, rising like black smoke, and started pacing, tall and threatening. Clint continued.

'She was born in Stalingrad, Russia. Her parents died in a fire when she was a child and she was raised by a man called Petrovich. He taught her everything. She became a criminal early. Much too early.'

The trickster stopped pacing, and looked over his shoulder at agent Barton 'When was the last time you saw her?'

'We were in Hungary.'

'And what did you _do_?' Loki felt his lips quivering as rage enveloped him slowly. He was like bare, uncovered gunpowder surrounded by licking tongues of red hot fire.

'We were there for a mission SHIELD gave us.'

'Silk sheets and expensive drinks were a part of your _mission_?' Loki asked incredulously. 'What happened after the mission?'

'We made love.'

The words echoed inside Loki's dark mind, brushing against its sharp corners and his jaw clenched when the curtain lifted and another flashback decided to appear on its volatile surface.

_Darcy wrapped her arms around Loki's neck as his hands clenched her rolling hips, the tremor in her arching neck pulsed and he sunk his teeth into her creamy flesh, needing to feel her racing bile. She moaned his name like no one before, and inside his chest he fluttered as he felt her softness and warmth and kindness beneath his deadly hands._

'Ah.' Loki gave Barton a steely smile, looking down at his sitting form. 'And what did you do then?'

'SHIELD called us and we went our separate ways. She was sent to Russia and then India. I was sent to…' Clint stopped for a moment, his hard forehead tight.

'… to help capture _me_?' Loki finished, and his fingers twitched.

Barton nodded, swallowing thickly. His pale possessed eyes looked fearfully up at Loki.

'Who ordered you to attack?'

'SHIELD.'

'That is not a satisfactory answer, Barton.' Loki's sinewy neck tightened and a vein pulsed visibly on his temple 'I want to hear _names_.'

'Agent Coulson ordered me. Director Fury ordered him.'

Loki chuckled humorlessly 'And, how is it, that our dear director ordered an attack while a person closely associated with his _valuable_ scientists and _allies_ remained in the very house he wanted to burn down in order to capture me?'

'I don't know, sir.' Clint said slowly. 'But I did overhear his conversation with Phil Coulson about 10 minutes before the attack.'

The green eyes of the god of mischief never blinked as he waited for Clint to continue.

'Fury claimed _she_ was an accomplice, that she worked with you and was immediately marked as a suspect.'

Loki stood planted on his spot, in front of Clint, his shoulders tense, his fists tight and shaking ever so slightly.

'Fury said collateral damage was inevitable in these kinds of situations. He told Coulson you were a big threat, and the entire situation was more important than… Miss Lewis.'

'_Collateral damage_?' Loki murmured softly, his head cocked dangerously to the side as he took a step closer.

'_Damage_?'

'Agent Coulson didn't agree with Fury!' Clint quickly stood up, unable to control the fear that pumped through him 'I just followed orde-'

A heavy, armor clad arm flew to the side of Clint's head before he could finish. His eyes closed as the violent impact left his head screaming in pain. He thought his skull broke when he hit him.

The scepter was nowhere to be seen, and Loki's chest heaved with breaths as his eyes burned in wrath. He wanted, _needed_ to hurt somebody, and this time his raw strength would be an appropriate channel for the anger that _blinded_ him.

As Clint rolled on the ground, Loki's heavy leg swung and met Barton's stomach with unnatural speed and strength.

One, two, three times.

He gasped for breath as the air was kicked out of his lungs, his muscles burned. Holding his stomach, Barton coughed in pain.

Releasing a ragged breath through his white teeth, Loki looked around himself in madness and then back at Barton. Crouching down, he took hold of Barton's neck with strong pale fingers and lifted him up by his throat. Barton's feet dangled a few inches from the ground as Loki drew him nearer to his furious visage and then spat in his face.

'Don't you _dare _try to vindicate _anyone_.' Loki growled at Barton's face that slowly turned purple and his eyes bulged out of his skull as his throat was being crushed by deadly fingers.

Loki held him in the air by this windpipe like a puppet.

'You are a _pathetic_ liar.' Loki's lips quivered in rage, venom seeping from the corner of his pale lips 'A worthless _weakling_ crawling in service of an arrogant organization.'

With a sudden release of his clenching fingers, Loki dropped Barton to the ground, and he choked and wheezed for oxygen.

'_Get up._' Loki spat as he straightened up and walked out of the door, his long leather coat blowing behind him. Agent Clint Barton's clouded mind yelled in pain as the heavy steps of Loki's boots echoed through the wet, cold corridor.

They echoed and traveled to his controlled mind and hollow heart like a splinter of wood trapped in a wine colored bloodstream.

**AN: The song is called Heavy In Your Arms by Florence + The Machine. Please review! :)**


	21. Chapter 21

**AN: Thank you to everyone that reviewed, I love you all ! :)**

**While I wrote this chapter I listened to (type to you tube and put on repeat): Dracula - 13 - Love Eternal **

**Intentions are becoming darker... I hope you enjoy this one!**

**Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Marvel.  
**

* * *

Chapter 21

_He could fall and she can weep_

_But as holy are my feet and hard with mention_

_That dear they may not speak_

_We feel tight when there is tension_

_And our eyes can make us weak._

_And his heart was full of fire at the man he had become_

_And his soul seldom higher with the falsities of fun_

_Could embrace sweet desires and moments as they passed_

_But he feared it ever more, when he saw it didn't last._

_And I believe we are meant to be seen and not to be understood._

* * *

Impatience pulsed through every nerve in Loki's body. He paced quickly through the dark, wet corridor, his arm still stinging from the impact it made on Barton's thick head. A cry was heard from the room he just abandoned.

_Pathetic,miserable, worthless…_

Taking out his rage on agent Barton just didn't seem enough for the god of lies. His mind reminded him of a glass under a waterfall; even if you poured out the water when it was full, it would fill again, the water rising dangerously fast towards the edge of the glass.

And there, I would _spill_.

A wave of indescribable sadness filled him and Loki stopped walking. Instead, he turned to the dirty, stone wall and pressed his pale, spidery palms on the wet surface, leaning onto it for support, breathing deeply through his nose, his dark eyebrows meeting in the middle. A lump formed in his throat and he swallowed it, wincing.

_Now was not the time for weakness…_

Like a shiver rolling down his spine, he felt them. Mere _silent_ shadows – these faceless heroes slowly creeped over his head… _assembling_. Inwardly, Loki scoffed – there are no such things as _heroes_. Loki was born and raised in the company of _one_ who always wanted to be just that – _a hero_. In their mother's heart, in their father's eyes.

The god of thunder always craved _fame_. To be accompanied by an applause, to be worshiped, to have his monuments built higher than heaven.

'_Bravery._' Loki mocked, his dark eyes shining in mischief. The soft scoff echoed through the tube-like hall, whispering against the walls.

There was no bravery inside these _heroes_. Only a hunger for glory and a need to prove themselves.

Loki was guided by two things, and two thing _only_.

First, there was_ revenge_, that moody little minx. She seduced Loki, with her deviant and perverse nature, fueled his need to see all who wronged him burn to pieces. The trickster pushed revenge to the surface, exposing it to the world, letting his enemies believe that was his true motivation, his _only_ spur.

But there was another sensation. Another feeling. It dug far deeper than vengeance. Its shine was a dark flame; unquenchable and unrestrainable.

Loki _could_ never admit it out loud. He could not afford other people knowing of his _true_ determination. He wouldn't be able to _endure_ the look they would all give him if they found out, if they learned he was…

In love.

And he felt it. Valhalla, Loki _burned_ with it. Love he realized he harbored passionately. For her. And her alone.

And now, his loose palms formed into tight fists as his frozen heart throbbed in desire to revenge _her_.

It rested further down in his soul than anything he ever felt in his long immortal life. It burned through his very core and twisted his insides, filling his head with storm clouds that will never ease, never rain, never disappear.

Not until he sees her again.

The fall, the deal with Thanos, the rage – it all started because of his pain. The pain his family and his kin threw him in, chuckling as they did so.

And then he landed on this realm. The very realm that shall be his once he is done with it.

And then he met her. And she eased that pain. With her voice, kisses, gentle hands. He never told her this; but she crawled under his skin like no one before, removing his darkness with her bare fingertips.

Until they took her away.

Now, that darkness collected and pain tripled.

The people who did this to _him_… to _her_, will feel it.

Starting from agent Barton.

Selvig will learn what it means to be alone, once Loki played with his mind. The Aesir will learn how dangerously deep their condemnation and disapproval went. His brother will know what it means to be _thrown_ into an abyss. Odin will experience the venom on his bare skin.

And, _of course_, he will pay a little visit to Miss Foster, after he is finished.

Loki straightened up, dragging his fingers through his hair. Through blinding pain of his loss and insanity, he smirked.

It was time for him to dress nicely and step to the Midgardian stage. He had enough of this _tomb_, he needed out, he needed to smell the air, to see the carefree faces of the mortal nation, so happy and so naïve, oblivious to the threat that will reveal itself.

Closing his eyes, he pictured his attire, and when he opened them, he was dressed in a dark suit and a long dark coat. Adjusting the collar of his suit-jacket, he continued walking until he reached the large room where the cube glowed.

Lifting up his chin, he looked around and when he spotted a small group of agents, he summoned them closer with a slow movement of his hand.

In the matter of seconds, they stood in front of him, their eyes shining blue, eagerly waiting to be given orders.

'You will accompany agent Barton on a little _quest_. You will be searching for Iridium. I daresay you will need to use a bit of force to bring it to me.' He smirked '_Now move_.'

And as the agents took their weapons, adjusting their equipment, Loki's face stretched in a full grin. He walked to the table filled with guns and various other tools, and took the scepter that rested ever so innocently on the grey surface.

Using his magic, Loki turned the long scepter into a shorter cane. The blue gem still shined on the top.

He remembered looking at the pictures in one of Darcy's history books while she was sleeping. In the past, Midgardian _gentlemen_ used to carry canes with them. It was an indicator of sophistication and refinement.

Glancing around, he peered closely at the map on the large computer screen beside him.

A small red dot blinked on what Loki presumed was the map of Midgard. Slowly, it zoomed in, to the northern Hemisphere, then Europe, then a territory he read was called… Germany.

Giving a soft _beep _the red light turned green and gleamed. Loki smirked.

_28 Königstraße, Stuttgard._

_Der könig_, the king will soon return to his throne.

…

The Hellicarrier was a massive, flying beast. It kept airborne at all times. The Hellicarrier was, in fact, SHIELD-s headquarters, borne by the strength of four giant turbines.

Among large quantities of weapons, it contained a squadron of jet fighters and it was home to the intercontinental ballistic missile.

Right now, it flew over an ocean, invisible and silent.

Steve Rogers, known better as the Captain America stood next to a beaming agent Coulson. They both observed dozens of working, navy-clad agents.

Steve Rogers was much taller than agent Coulson, and in much worse mood. He leaned on the railing, feeling strange. His vintage-looking brown leather jacket suffocated him, and he shifted nervously while Coulson continued to speak.

'It's a vintage set.' Coulson smiled shyly 'Took me a couple of years to collect them all. Near mint, slight foxing around the edges but-'

His talking was interrupted by agent Jasper Sitwell.

'We got a hit.' He said hurriedly, clicking on the computer 'Sixty seven percent match. _Wait_- cross-match, seventy nine percent!'

This woke Coulson, his shy smile falling from his face, the excited boy disappearing, as he straightened up and placed his hand inside his suit-pocket, gripping the stack of cards until they dug into his palm.

'Location?' Phil asked curtly, his gaze cold.

'Stuttgart, Germany.' Sitwell said 'Twenty eight, Königstraße.' Confusion danced in his eyes. 'He's not exactly _hiding_.'

Phil Coulson gazed upon the face of the man who smiled at the camera that filmed him, dressed smartly and strolling lightly. And his gut clenched. Out of nowhere, Coulson heard the familiar voice of Nick Fury behind his back. It was slow, determined and filled with anxiety.

'Captain, you're _up_.'

Rogers gazed at Fury, but said nothing. Instead, he turned on his heel and marched away, stomping firmly, like a true soldier.

Fury and Coulson watched him leave, his tall from was enveloped in darkness of the corridor. The sun disappeared behind a large black cloud. The pale light seeped through the glass walls of the Hellicarrier bridge, and it brought an evil foreboding.

For the hundredth time in the last few months, fear gripped Coulson's bones, and this time, he decided to face Fury.

Every time he tried to talk to Fury about it, miles separated them and the only rope he could throw him was the phone connection. And _every_ time, Fury hung up before Phil could fully voice his concerns.

And this time, he decided to corner the Director.

Fury stood with his dark hands on his hips, watching the large room with his one good eye, a usual heavy frown on his face.

'Sir, we need to talk.'

'I _know_ what you're going to say Coulson.' His dark eye closed as Fury sighed.

'Yes, well, I have a bad feeling.' Coulson leaned on the railing too, trying to catch a glimpse of Director's face.

Fury's one dark eye glared at Phil. 'We all have those from time to time.'

Phil realized there was not much sense to beat about the bush, so he just went out with it.

'_Sir_, we attacked a person who is closely connected to Tho-'

'Coulson you will stop right there!' Fury hissed, stepping closer, his leather coat making him appear as an over-sized bat 'I have Banner, Romanoff, Stark, Rogers _and_ Thor here. You _don't _want to talk about this now.'

'Director, if Thor finds out, if anyone finds out what happened…' Phil shook his head in nervousness.

'Coulson, listen and listen good. What happened that night will _remain_ a secret.'

'Sir, they should be told! There is enough suspicion and doubt in them already! Imagine what will happen if they find out about it behind our backs!' Phil hissed 'Especially Thor! He knew Darcy Lewis!'

Nick Fury glared at Coulson.

'Sir, I have seen Thor. You know he comes from a realm where honor is _everything_. If we betray his trust, I _guarantee_ you...' Phil closed his eyes pleadingly '...he will refuse to work for us. And soon he will pull others with himself. There _won't be_ _any_ Avengers left.'

'That won't happen.'

'Sir, this is a team of extraordinary people we are dealing with! How can we know that won't happen? As far as we know, a grain of doubt can well up inside one of them. After that, Stark can click two buttons and find _everything_!'

'We've been through this, Phil. You hid the evidence _well_, you concealed the footage of the enemy and Miss Lewis!' Fury motioned with his hand.

'I still don't understand, sir. Why _is_ it a secret?'

'For heaven's sake, Coulson!' Fury placed his face in his palms, hissing urgently 'He is Thor's brother! Already, Thor is senseless when it comes to Loki. Imagine what would happen if he learned Loki and Lewis knew each other!'

'What did you expect, sir?' Phil asked coldly. 'I told you it was dangerous to fire on them.'

'Coulson, this information is top secret.' Fury hissed like a snake 'For the time being, only _you_ and _I_ will know about this. No one else. Is that understood?'

'You forgot someone else, sir.'

'Who!?' Fury exclaimed.

'Loki.' Phil said 'He knows _very well_ what happened that night since we chased both of them over New Mexico desert.'

'Yes, well…' Fury pulled a smug face 'He will want to keep that to _himself_.' Director looked at his phone 'I honestly doubt he would want others knowing he had a little... _romance_ on Earth.'

The arrogance and nerve slapped Phil in the face as the Director's true nature surfaced. Breath caught in Coulson's throat.

'What do you mean, sir?' Phil said this slowly, not sure if he wanted to know Fury's true intentions.

'Coulson,' Fury kept a cold face 'Didn't you see the footage? Our _enemy _had a little love affair while visiting Earth.' He smiled cunningly 'The guy really knows how to mix business and pleasure.'

Phil looked at his suit jacket, focusing on the clean edges of his crisp white shirt. Inside, he felt _disgusted_.

'The knowledge we possess will be crucial for the outcome of this war, Coulson. And I already told you this – the well-being of this planet and its people is _far_ more important than Miss Lewis, _or_ the _tender_ feelings of some Norse god.'

Phil was silent, looking at his boss.

'We know his weakness now. And _trust me_, it's all matter of proper leverage, Phil.' His one good eye narrowed 'And _that_ is how wars are won.'

Phil _never_ questioned SHIELD. _Never_. _So, why did he feel so strange all of a sudden? Why did he feel all of this was utterly mad and wrong?  
_

'You do realize you are playing with fire, Director.' Phil swallowed.

'I am your superior, Coulson. You do not _question_ your superiors. You follow orders!' Fury whipped him with a sharp look. 'Now, I cannot comprehend why you are unable to do. Just. That?'

'Director, I've been working for SHIELD for nearly 15 years.' Phil sighed 'And I've seen lots of _things_.'

Fury stared at Phil, trying to catch his every word over the noise of computers and people.

'And I believe you went_ too far_ with this one.'

'Excuse me?' The dark man blinked.

'The fact that you want to use Miss Lewis in this cruel game is both shocking and dangerous. I understand it's probably your way of bringing _him_ to his knees or goading him to a trap-'

'Damn well, it is! The man is threatening _your_ planet, _our_ planet with _war_!' Fury was angry.

'Yes, sir, but think about it.' Phil's pale eyes gazed tiredly at Director 'If we just left them alone all those months ago, probably none of this would happen. And now, playing with this man's feelings is the worst thing we can do.'

Fury was silent; his fists were clenched, his dark leather coat glinting. Inside his one dark eye, Phil saw irritation, but no sight of apprehension.

And Phil felt in his _bones_, the danger, the threat of their insolence, their arrogance.

And a screaming fear. He feared all of them will end up burning under the raging power of the god they dared provoke.

**AN: The song form the beginning is by Laura Marling - Alpha Shadows. REVIEW !**


	22. Chapter 22

**AN: Darlings... I'm sorry for the wait. This chapter required a bit more than work than other ones. I wish to send lots of love to everyone that reviewed! Chapter 22 is dedicated to Mizra. This lovely person made a picture for Ink and Parchment. Check it out...**

**i123 DOT photobucket DOT com/albums/o310/Mizra1/CSS/b387b3a8 DOT jpg**

**While I wrote this I listened to (you tube and on repeat, please! So much better with it!):**

**BBC's Sherlock (Series Two) Original Soundtrack - Sherlocked [07]- ONE OF MY ABSOLUTE FAVORITES. **

**Hans Zimmer - Why Do We Fall? (with chant) - Play this when the action starts! **

**Enjoy! And please review!**

**Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Marvel.**

* * *

Chapter 22_  
_

_Don't fret precious, I'm here._  
_Step away from the window, go back to sleep._  
_Safe from pain and truth and choice, and other poison devils. _

_Counting bodies like sheep_

_To the rhythm of the war drums._

* * *

_Such fascinating creatures…_

The fallen god of mischief mused as he strolled through the elegant streets of Stuttgart. With a smug smirk, he observed the mortal nation. While he was in Puente Antiguo, he saw only a small piece of the complex puzzle that was the Midgardian realm, and now, his senses filled and eyes gleamed as he both desired and hated this strange little planet.

Now, he realized, he was on the different continent, miles and miles away from the desert upon whose dusty surface he landed all those months ago.

Loki's gut clenched - almost _four_ months passed since he was taken to the realm of the Other.

It seemed only yesterday he and Darcy lay together, talking in the darkness of her room. The room that smelled of her shampoo and piles of old books. It seemed only yesterday they drove through the desert, chased by SHIELD.

_The van hit a larger bump, as if warning them, and they parted, his hand still lingered around her neck and he smiled at her. Like a snake, he slithered out so his entire upper body dangled out of the fast-moving vehicle._

_'Loki, what are you doing!?' Darcy shouted, her head frantically moving from the road to Loki._

Loki's eyes closed briefly as the violent images ran through his memory.

_Leave me. Leave my head, Darcy. I cannot think with you inside me. Please._

A soft smell of freshly baked pretzels reached Loki. He opened his eyes, and lifted them to the sky – even among the forest of colorful lights on Stuttgart's famous street, stars shined, each perfect and sharp. A soft outline of Milky Way followed the chilly street, the distinct accent flowing around him like a river of laughter, serious conversations and careless banter.

Twirling his cane, he craned his neck, his crisp white shirt tight at the collar. Loki faced the impressive building in front of him, smoothing back his black hair with an elegant movement of his long fingers.

The man who held the _key_ to Iridium would be speaking in this… _institution_ of culture this evening. And Loki smiled in silent delight as he observed the impressive architecture, the creamy stone and thick pillars of the prominent building. Lights shined against the façade, lighting up the structure and marking the building as the true queen of the entire street.

A sea of people stood before it, still not invited inside. All of them wore similar clothes. Men smoothed down their black suits and tuxedos, while women arched elegantly on their high heels, their hair-styles immaculate, dark gowns and dresses shimmering with the smallest movement.

Still, it was not time to go inside, and Loki patiently waited. A wide pathway of crimson carpet has been drawn out of the mouth of the building – clean, smooth and blood red.

_Oh there will be blood…_

Ominous visions filled the god of lies and there he relished them, feeling the soft weight of the hazardous device in his dark suite pocket.

With any luck, Dr. Heinrich Schäfer and the god of mischief will see _eye to eye _once he finished _extracting_ the information he needed in order to get to Iridium.

A burst of laughter interrupted Loki's thoughts, and he leaned back onto the white wall, turning to look at the group of women standing by the entrance.

He could not distinguish their words. Loki only saw their smiles and heard their laughter.

Then, his gaze fell upon one of the women.

Every muscle in his body clenched in awareness, hairs at the back of his neck stood on edge. Loki stared transfixed at the back of her head.

Brown, soft, long tresses fell like a waterfall over her back. Her height was right, even the constant unnecessary gesticulation was there.

He felt bruised inside. The eerie ripping noise of his breaking heart traveling to his ears, cold blood pumping rapidly.

_Darcy Lewis?_

He felt his lips quivering as fog lifted in his chest. With a shuddering breath he stepped forward, each shaky step bringing him closer to the cheerful group of young women.

_Impossible._

The woman shook her head in laughter, her feminine body in a fetching black dress; she was holding a velvety bag.

Loki was coming closer. People started to pour inside. His footsteps were now muffled by the crimson carpet. The group of women slowly broke up, and she fell behind, hunching over her bag, searching for something.

Before he could control himself, his hand rested on the woman's warm shoulder. His voice was low as he voiced his deepest desire, his darkest torment and only light he ever knew.

'_Darcy?_'

He sensed her flinching under the heavy pressure of his hand that nearly stroked her soft flesh, and she turned slowly.

It was like a slap to the face.

Her face was rosy and quite sharp, wide eyes blue and pink lips thin. '_Wie bitte?_'

It was not Darcy.

Immediately, Loki removed his hand from her, and bowed his head down in apology. Without a word, he slipped into the crowd and instead of walking through the giant portal that led into the main auditorium, he took slow steps up the marble stairs, wishing to reach a balcony that overlooked the entire large hall.

The echoing walls played with his mind, the soft glow of multicolored stained glass reflecting onto his pale features. A large glass painting of a saint loomed over the god of mischief.

Like molten lava welling up in a smoking volcano, a desire to be _feared_ welled up inside Loki. He took slow, determined steps as he walked towards the edge of the balcony.

_You will kneel. All of you will bow down._

Peering down, he already saw his victim. Sending one cold glance towards the elegant group of people, he continued to the other staircase, the one that will lead him to the very center of the room.

Towering behind him was a large fresco, filled with religious figures and historical scenes.

Soft music reached his ears, a bittersweet and dramatic melody carried by crying violins.

He felt his fist shaking as it gripped the cane tighter. His black coat blowing behind him, he lightly jumped over the steps, until he finally, set his eyes on one of the guards. He, too, was dressed formally, but Loki noticed he was not there to listen to speech or lectures by Dr. Schäfer.

The man saw Loki, saw the threatening twirling of his glowing cane, and he lunged. But Loki was faster. Flipping it effortlessly in his hand, he swung it, aiming for the man's head. Before he could blink, Loki sent the man flying through the air. The dropped to the ground, the sickening thud of the man's body triggering a series of gasps and yells from the scared observers.

Now, it was Loki's turn to lunge. Baring his white teeth at Dr. Schäfer shocked face like a wild animal, he grabbed the back of his neck and dragged him to the large sculpture. A stone head of a seething beast on each side, the sculpture delightfully resembled a sacrificing throne.

With one pull of his strong hand, Loki flipped the unfortunate doctor on his back, and to the hard surface of the adamant sculpture.

To the shock of the frightened people, Loki snatched out the bizarre device. He jerked his hand, returning it to life as it started spinning. Metal tentacles spread wider, like a sharp octopus.

And then, he dug the screeching weapon deeply into the man's eye. Once it sunk into his flesh, cries and screams of panic tore through the echoing room.

The music stopped, and as the man's eye was brutally mangled, Loki watched, filled with satisfaction at the carnal sight of screams, panic and unstoppable running.

People fled to the gala, yelling and screaming as their make-up ran over their cheeks, tripping over each other and causing panic to form along the street.

The seething god of lies followed slowly, stepping through the crowd of running people. And with one deep breath, his Midgardian formal clothing changed.

Now, he strutted proudly, his armor of dark gold and emerald green glinting deeply in the night. The can disappeared, extending to a long scepter. The golden horned helmet rose on his head, its sharp ends curving and giving Loki an overall devilish look. Ink black hair peeked beneath the dark golden helmet.

A screaming noise of two Polizei cars boomed around him, and Loki turned slowly, blasting a large blue shield over them, making them crash into the invisible barrier. Metal screeched as they skidded across the asphalt, rotating blue lights fluttering.

With only one magic thought, Loki used his favorite trick and created duplicates of himself, easily surrounding the frightened mob.

'_Kneel before me._' His voice was loud and it carried a clear order. But the crowd ran in circles, unable to find the exit, weeping and screaming. They were _oblivious_ to the order he gave. Fire burned inside Loki.

_You will obey me._

'I said-' And he hammered the end of the scepter to the floor, releasing the surge of power and surrounding the crowd '_KNEEL!_'

Once the scream tore itself out of Loki, everything fell _silent_.

Spreading his arms, one fist tightly gripping the scepter, Loki smiled breathlessly and started pacing. When people slowly dropped to their knees onto the cold ground, Loki's eyes lighted up dangerously, his grin widening.

'Is not this _simpler_? Is this _not_ your natural state?' Breathing the crisp night air, Loki thrust his arm forwards, lifting the glowing scepter in the air so it flew above the scared mortals' heads 'It's the unspoken truth of humanity, that you _crave_ subjugation.' And he tightened his fist to better convey his message. Heads bowed in fear, as his hissing words traveled through the crowd. With the corner of his green eye, he caught the woman who he thought was Darcy. She was shaking, her silky hair falling into her sticky face, and she held a silver cross around her neck, her lips frantically moving in silent prayer.

'The bright _lure_ of freedom diminishes your life's _joy_ in a mad _scramble_ for _power_… for _identity_.' A heavy look graced his face, his eyes tortured and rimmed with darkness, his voice husky and odd. Until he whispered: 'You were _made_… to be _ruled_.'

Now, almost every eye was afraid to meet his face, staring hopelessly into the ground, not believing this happened to them, at this moment, in this place. _Why?_

'In the end…' A self-confident, jaunty, smug smile stretched on Loki's charming face '…you will always kneel.'

His eyes traveled through the sea of mortified heads. No one moved - but _one_. An old man stood up shakily, his old trench coat blowing in the wind as he glared at the god of lies with pale, watery eyes.

His accent was broken, his voice old and punctured with long years of his turbulent life. 'Not to men like _you_.'

_'God or not, I am a man.' he whispered by her lips 'And like any man, I simply cannot resist you.'_

_Thunder cracked once again, louder than the last, and wind blew harder._

_'There are no men like you, Loki.' Darcy whispered with a smile, her eyes half-lidded and only an inch from his own. Then, she stretched her neck higher, and eagerly met his lips._

There was a small pause, and Loki cocked his head to the side, feeling nostalgia and need burning at the pit of his stomach, reflecting in his glassy eyes.

As always, he masked his real emotions with a soft laugh. 'There _are_ _no_ men like _me_.' And he repeated Darcy's words, believing in them more than in his own name.

'There are _always_ men like you.' The man shook his head tiredly.

'Look to your elder, people.' Loki lifted his eyebrows. No regrets, no remorse, no resistance.

'_Let him be an example._'

The wrinkled face of the old man was warped by fear, once Loki's scepter glowed. He fired from the scepter, already picturing the old man lying on the ground with a large burn in his torso, life sucked out of his body.

But it never happened. Instead, the blue glow reverberated off a blue, red and white shield, hitting Loki back.

The blow forced Loki to his knees, and he whipped his head angrily to see the face of the person who dared interrupt him.

The shadow lifted, as the first hero was revealed to the god of mischief. The glow of patriotic colors upon his suit stood out in the dark night. The man's strut was proud, slightly arrogant in Loki's eyes. A white star looked right at the god of lies, glowing on the round shield that repelled the power of the scepter.

'_Steve Rogers. Probably the oldest member of the group… He fought in the Second World War. He had dealings with the Cube.' Barton sighed, clearing his bruised throat as the plane flew over the Atlantic 'Long ago. It cost him his life – he was frozen, asleep for nearly 70 years… Until they found him.'_

'You know, the last time _I_ was in Germany and saw a man standing above everybody _else_,' Rogers walked through the sea of kneeling people who slowly started rising to their feet 'we ended up _disagreeing_.'

'_The soldier…_' The god of lies growled, his voice hoarse and daring. He too got to his feet, meeting the heavy blue gaze of Captain America '_…the man out of time._'

Rogers straightened up, holding onto his shield. 'I'm not the one who's out of time.' He said coldly.

Before Loki could answer, a gush of wind made by the quin-jet blew around them, lifting the leaves, the dust and papers. A gun unfolded from the underside of the plane, followed by a female voice. It rang through the entire length of Königstraße.

Loki _knew_ to whom it belonged. Dear agent Barton told him quite a lot about this woman, spy, actress… this professional killer.

'Loki, drop the weapon and _stand_ _down!_'

Lifting the scepter, Loki fired at the jet, forcing Romanoff to turn the flying object to the side. She avoided it, and Loki fumed in frustration.

Like a true warrior, Rogers lunged at Loki, throwing his shield at him. It sliced through the air, flying at Loki.

The two started fighting.

When one blow caught the side of Loki's helmet, he stopped, turned, glared at the soldier and swung his long scepter.

It hit Steve's shield once, twice. The hold Rogers had on his shield loosened and then, when Rogers hunched in pain, Loki drove the blunt side of the scepter to Rogers' stomach, pushing him away.

He flew to the other end of the small square. Glaring up at the trickster, he threw his shield again, and Loki stopped it with a quick strike of his scepter. Wind blew harder as the plane came nearer to the ground. The small square was almost completely deserted.

The shield skidded across the ground, far from Steve's reach, and now Loki brandished his scepter, slicing and thrusting through the air. Rogers ducked, moving swiftly, avoiding each blow.

But when the god of lies felt anger bubbling up, he twirled the scepter, growling and finally – he hit the soldier squarely on his back.

The soldier fell down. Loki took long strides, charging with wild look in his eyes and as the soldier tried to stand up, Loki firmly pushed the dull end of the hard scepter to the back of his head.

'Kneel.' Loki's voice quivered with anger and thrill.

'Not today !' Rogers yelled and jumped, aiming his foot to the side of Loki's face, making him yell out in pain.

Rage blinded Loki's vision and he rose up to his full towering height and took Rogers by his throat, wishing to crush his windpipe in his pale fingers. Loki threw him like a rag doll away from himself, wishing to break every bone in his body, wishing to snap his neck in half.

The scepter glowed as Loki aimed it at Rogers, but before he could blast the soldier into dark oblivion, another hero flew to the aid of the fellow Avenger.

Like a meteor, a man in a blood red iron suit flew over the black sky, a white trail following him. Loki looked up, and before he could take another breath, a repulsor blast hit him square in his armored chest, sending him flying across the street.

He groaned in pain as his spine aggressively met the hard edge of a stair, and his eyes watered as pain spread through his body. His clumsily sewn wound stung terribly, and he thought Darcy's stitches broke.

A bored, challenging, slightly nasal voice spoke behind a barrier of metal mask. 'Make a move reindeer games.'

Loki straightened up slowly, pride and elegance gracing his every movement even though he was in the unfortunate position – lying under the feet of his enemies.

With a deep breath, glaring deadly daggers at the two men, he raised his hands, his Asgardian armor fading away like mist around his body, leaving him in his leather and metal tunic.

'Good move.' The metal man commented arrogantly, making a nerve of irritation pulse against Loki's temple.

_The man out of time. And the man of metal. Such lost souls. _

A Polizei car smoked in the background. Black smoke rose from the damaged vehicle and wind blew from the engine of the large plane.

Loki saw them advancing on him, and he decided the time for physical combat was over.

Now, they are going to play _his_ favorite game.

The game of lies and deception. Of trickery and mischief.

The deadly game he played for centuries, with mortals, gods _and_ giants.

The game he _never_ lost.


	23. Chapter 23

**AN: OH MY LORD this chapter - there are so much feelings for these characters inside me. I'm so glad it's published. Thank you for reviewing! While I wrote this (you tube please) I listened to: **

**Thor Soundtrack - Odin Confesses**

**Batman Begins OST: Track 9: Gordon Comforts Bruce(really important for the second part of the chapter!) **

**PLEASE REVIEW!  
**

**Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Marvel.**

* * *

Chapter 23

_Dark the stars and dark the moon,_

_Hush the night and the morning loon,_

_Tell the horses and beat on your drum,_

_Gone their master, gone their son._

_Dark the oceans, dark the sky,_

_Hush the whales and the ocean tide,_

_Tell the salt marsh and beat on your drum,_

_Gone their master, gone their son._

_Dark to light and light to dark,_

_Three black carriages, three white carts,_

_What brings us together is what pulls us apart,_

_Gone our brother, gone our heart._

* * *

Loki felt the storm rising. Not just inside his frostbitten chest, but in the very air around him. While the Avengers _escorted_ him from the small square in Stuttgart, he smelled it. A faint scent of burning lightning and shattered forests.

Waiting for him.

And now, he sat in the steel belly of this flying beast, strapped with black harnesses, the bench trembling underneath his body as the plane roared to life. His green eyes burned into one spot, as a positively cold and deadly expression graced his face.

With the corner of his eye, he observed the red iron and the confident, slightly bored stance of the man of metal.

'_Stark. He is bold, arrogant, fearless… and filthy rich.' Barton's glowing blue eyes shined as he spoke. 'There is a piece of shrapnel traveling constantly in his body, trying to reach his heart. The arc reactor is what keeps him alive. It's also what fuels his suit.'_

'_I don't like it._' The soldier spoke, his back turned to Loki. A visible tension gripped his shoulders, and he tried to whisper the words to Stark.

The man of metal, on the other hand, spoke louder, not bothered by anyone or anything.

_'What_? Rock of Ages giving up so _easily_?' His voice was relaxed, and even in his metal suit, he looked looser than Rogers.

'I don't remember it being _that_ easy.' Rogers looked over his shoulder at the brooding, glaring, hunched figure of the god of lies. '_This guy packs a wallop._'

Tony never took his eyes off Loki. And the trickster knew this. He felt the man's unrelenting gaze on him as both men continued to talk. Loki fought the urge to exhale a ragged breath of irritation at the constant, annoying, dull conversations spilling brainlessly out of Stark's mouth.

The man of metal sounded as if Loki was a common obstacle he was persuaded to get rid of.

It was only when one name entered the bleak conversation, that Loki turned his ear a bit more to the side, and listened.

'Fury didn't tell me he was calling _you_ in.' The soldier's tone was strained and cold, no doubt matching the shallow blue shade of his irises.

For the first time that evening, Stark paused, no doubt regarding both Loki and Rogers, until he said. 'Yeah, there's a lot of _things_ Fury doesn't tell you.'

Loki felt his hands shaking at the mention of the director. He was not the _only_ man responsible for what happened to Darcy, but he was the one who initiated it, who gave the cold order. The only one bold enough, _or_ _stupid_ enough to touch what _belonged_ to Loki.

The sky rumbled and thunder started to shake the jet. Loki's vision fogged for a moment as the blue and white light of Stark's heart shook and blurred.

_'Where's this coming from!?' _Natasha Romanoff exclaimed, and Loki saw her fiery red hair whipping around the sea of black as she clicked buttons and checked every single screen that surrounded her.

On the other side of the glass ceiling, black clouds lighted up as the lightning burst over them, stretching and cracking like crevices on breaking ice.

Loki's eyebrows met in the middle. Immediately, he knew _who_ was coming.

'What's the matter? Scared of a little lightning?' Rogers asked in mock interest, and Loki observed as Stark's eyebrows lifted.

'I'm not overly _fond_ of what follows.' Once again, the indescribable need to snap the soldier's neck tingled inside the trickster.

_The insolence of these puny mortals knows no boundaries. _

Heavy boots landed on the jet, and it rocked like a ship in a violent ocean. Loki's eyes looked up in fright at the large dent, and with each thunder that vibrated against the pale surface of his skin, his heart skipped a beat.

He could already see the jumpy movements of the man of metal and the soldier, their nervous faces, scared eyes.

Lightning unleashed his power onto the dark Earth, and Thor broke the metal barrier that separated him from what he came to collect.

After such a long, long time, he was here. Hearts broke, minds cracked, tears flew, madness _corrupted_ – and there he was – Thor, son of Odin. His brother, his enemy, but most frightening of all – his equal.

His armor has changed, but the noble Asgardian shades of silver and red remained. His hair, the blond mane, was longer, his blue eyes angrier, his face older.

The god of thunder.

And Mjölnir violently met the iron chest of the cocky billionaire, sending him flying to the other dark end of the plane. And the black straps broke when Thor reached and roughly yanked Loki by the collar, bringing him to his feet and dragging him closer to his face.

Not a word was spoken.

Thor darkly observed his lost brother as he swung his hammer, holding Loki by his leather tunic.

They flew.

Out of the metal platform, through the broken doorway, and into the misty night. The sharp points on the curving mountains flashed, their silhouettes illuminated by raging lightning. They traveled faster than the jet they just flew off, until Thor steered both of them onto one of the dark hills.

The flora that grew onto the rocky peak was dusty, dry and dead. A flock of black ravens nestled on one of the tall pines.

Thor landed lightly on his two strong feet, while Loki landed on his back. He met the rocky surface with a groan of pain that grew into a raspy laugh, his eyes closed, insanity bursting out to introduce itself, to show the god of thunder what became of _his baby brother_.

'Where's the _Tesseract_?' The rumbling notes of Thor's strained voice traveled to Loki's ears, his chest filling with nostalgia that he pushed down in disgust.

A breathless confession flew out of his lips slowly, accompanied by a chuckle as he continued to lie down 'I _missed_ you _too_.'

Like always, Loki's quick tongue and stinging sarcasm angered Thor.

'Do I _look_ to be in a _gaming_ _mood_?' Odinson raised his voice, booming like a thunder that just ceased to wake up the sleeping Midgardian realm.

Spite and a need to irritate Thor rebelled inside Loki and he gave a low sigh as he lifted his head, still purposely not getting up. 'Oh, you should _thank_ me.'

'With the Bifröst _gone_, how much _dark_ _energy_ did the _All-Father_ have to muster to conjure you here?' Loki now stood up, dusting himself and glaring daggers at Thor 'Your _precious_ Earth.'

And now, the witty need to annoy Thor diminished. His eyes darkened, and his once velvety murmur grew into a growl. A small earthquake was created when the hammer met the floor, dust and dirt rising around the two princes of Asgard. Thor bended down, took hold of Loki and brought him closer.

The next words were spoken with anger, but glazed with desperation, sadness and confusion. 'I though you _dead_.'

Loki raised his chin, meeting Thor's blue gaze with mad, green fire. Loki's tone was biting and uncaring. A perverse sense of curiosity filled the trickster as he wanted to know the reaction to his ''death''.

Did the Aesir grieve, ignore or, maybe, _cheer_ his... _disappearance_?

And repulse pumped through him as he felt his brother's familiar, warm hand upon his neck and cheek, his irritatingly _caring _expression that Loki just wanted to burn off his visage.

'Did you _mourn_?' He snarled lowly at Thor's face, his eyes narrowed.

A stutter crawled inside the rumbling notes of Thor voice 'We _all_ did.' He breathed heavily, wishing to say _so much_ to Loki 'Our father...'

'_Your_ father.' A pale, long finger lifted in Odinson's face to better convey the crucial message. After a few cold moments of silence, Loki jerked out of Thor's grasp and straightened his leather, walking away 'He _did_ tell you my _true_ parentage, did he not?'

An answer never reached the god of lies. Instead, Thor continued to sing his song. With the same tedious, dreary and utterly tiresome speech Loki hated. Thor, as always, tried to knock some reason into Loki.

Unfortunately, what Odinson was _not_ aware of, was that there _was_ _no _reason _left_ inside a mind of the person who reached the deep end of madness and insanity.

'We were _raised_ together. We _played_ together, we _fought_ _together_. Do you remember _none_ of that?' Thor yelled, his red cape swaying in the cold wind that blew through the dark forest beneath them, stretching to the foggy horizon. Muscled arms stood taunt and tense on either side of his broad trunk, as he walked behind his brother.

Loki arched his aching back, his black hair whipping in the night wind. He closed his eyes, rubbing his sore side.

And then he whipped, facing Thor 'I remember a _shadow_, living in the _shade_ of your greatness.' His eyelids fluttered in high emotion, his voice cracking a bit as pain filled him 'I remember you _tossing_ _me_ into an _abyss_. I who _was_ and _should_ _be_ king!'

His bursting emotions and unquenchable anger clashed blades, slicing through the pierced fabric of his mind. Ruthless. Unstoppable.

And his mind remained a bloody battlefield.

'So you take the world I love as recompense for your _imagined_ slights?' Thor spat in disgust, shocked and tired.

As the words left him, Loki narrowed his green orbs, not believing what he just heard.

_Imagined slights? _Oh, if only Thor knew what urged Loki. What provoked him, what haunted him.

What set his blood on _fire_.

'No, the Earth is under _my_ protection, Loki.'

A sorely demented laugh excaped Loki, but then again – he never held it back. He motioned wildly with his hands, irritating Thor further, and enjoying every single second. 'And you're doing a _marvelous_ job with that.' Loki lifted his eyebrows mockingly, sarcasm dripping with each syllable. 'The humans _slaughter_ each other in droves, while you _idly_ fret. I mean to _rule_ them. _And why should I not_?'

Odinson looked defeated, a sigh almost escaping him 'You think yourself _above_ them.'

A brash, smug smile played with the left corner of Loki's silver lips. His reply was simple '_Well, yes._'

'Then you miss the truth of _ruling_, brother. A throne would suit you _ill_.'

A shadow fell over Loki, his brow furrowed and an animalistic snarl twisted his mouth. His dark armor clad forearm hit Thor's chest, as he pushed past him and walked up the small slope, reaching the highest point.

The trickster drew shuddering breaths, wrath shaking his lungs. One of the ravens flew out of the black canopy, flying above them and giving an eery, hysterical croak.

_Darcy opened her lips shakily and spoke ' I was born in battle's fire, Laid beside my mother's corpse, My toys the ravens of the field, My lullabies the screams of horse.'_

'I've seen worlds you've never known about!' His voice shook as it rose, quivering and dark. 'I have _grown_, _Odinson_-' Loki leaned forward, spittle flying out of his mouth as he growled at the god of thunder '-in my exile! I have seen the _true power_ of the Tesseract. And _when_ I wield it-'

'Who _showed_ you this power? Who _controls_ the _would_ _be_ king?' The god of thunder yelled, not realizing he too was treading on very thin ice.

_Do not think you can make us wait too long, Asgardian. You shall be transported to His army once the moon is full and shining above your head. Then, the only way you shall be able to get back to Earth is with them at your command and an order to fulfill._

_'I take orders from no one.' Loki whispered to the empty room, his voice as tense as his broad shoulders._

'I AM a king!'

And Thor pushed his shoulders, grabbed his upper arms, trying to knock reason, some common sense into his brother. And he roared at Loki '_Not here! You give up the Tesseract! You give up this poisonous dream!_' With a firm hold onto the side of his brothers neck, he looked at Loki with desperation and agony, his lips working, nothing coming out of them until the strangled plea pushed its way out of his clenching soul _'You come home._'

Loki Laufeyson was a lot of things. But _cruelty_ was certainly his most pronounced trait.

And so he gave Thor a long watery gaze, and a small smile.

The entire performance triggered a small spark of hope inside his brother – and then, on the very brink, when it _could_ burst into a large flame, Loki would crush it, blow it until it completely disappeared.

And only smoke rested as a painful remainder, as a mocking evidence – you _almost_ had him.

'_I don't have it._' The god of mischief pursed his lips, and relished the sight of defeat on Thor's face.

A small tear quivered in the corner of Thor's eye and his satisfaction deepened. But then fury filled Thor and Loki heard the familiar buzzing as the hammer flew to Loki's strong fist. Thor lifted it over his head, angered by Loki's answer.

'Now I _will_ speak bluntly, brother.' Thor rumbled lowly, something else swimming in his blue irises, other than anger – it was a familiar silhouette of _guilt_. 'And I will say what I should have the moment we landed on this hill.'

The large map of Loki's plans and intentions fell into shadow, his eyes narrowing in confusion, as he tried to grasp onto what Thor was about to say.

It felt _wrong_. The tone of it felt... wrong.

Thor released a heavy, ragged sigh, his proud chin dipping lower, as well as his hammer. The god of lies observed as courage left the mighty Thor. His big brother was silent for a few moments.

Loki was silent, his back tense and his hands balled into fists. With each breath, a small fog flew out of their mouth. There was no moon. Or stars.

'Brother, what-' Thor stammered, speaking to the ground '-what happened with Darcy was a _dreadful_ misfortune.'

To Loki it seemed the Earth stopped spinning. Clocks stopped ticking. Everything stood still.

'What?' His heavy face grew heavier, dark eyes fell into even thicker shadow. Green eyes remained blank, fixed onto one spot in the background, enveloped in stillness that announced a catastrophe.

'We- Heimdall- _We_ saw what happened. But only small glimpses of it. Your power deceived our senses and we were able to see _only_ a small part of it.'

Thor gulped heavily. Wind grew colder as he took a step closer.

'Darcy Lewis was a kind, loving woman...'

A warm hand sneaked onto his broad shoulder. The soft ting of Thor's fingers meeting the dark metal shoulder-pad woke Loki up.

'And she will be greatly missed.' Thor's twinkling, compassionate blue gaze trying to catch Loki.

The trickster looked up. He lifted his eyebrows as his mouth stretched to a full grin. Soon, that grin broadened frighteningly as hot bursts of humorless chuckle flew out. Loki threw his head back, and laughed, his shoulders shaking with mirth beneath Thor's heavy hand. 'Oh, I see...' He continued, and then lightly removed Thor's hand from his person, stepping away.

Then he paced, still smiling, still laughing. _'I see, I see..._' He walked back and forth dramatically, eyes shining in madness as Thor took a step back. Only then, the son of Odin started to notice the shaking fists and the tightening veins in his brother's neck.

Uneasiness and worry filled him. And Thor cringed at the though of his brother loosing his mind. The god of thunder stood rigid, trying to break the ice 'I _know_ that you loved her-'

'YOU KNOW _NOTHING_!' The ink, sharp black hair whipped as Loki turned. 'About me OR about her! NOTHING!' His sunken face contorted with rage, wildness and violent abandon Thor has never witnessed in his long life.

'Loki, I too fell in love with a mortal.' Thor begged him.

'Well yes-' Loki sneered 'Your sweetheart was out of harm's way! Protected! _Mine_ DIED in my arms!'

'Jane has nothing to do with this, Loki.' Protectiveness Thor harbored for Jane showed clearly.

'And this is supposed to _mean_ something to me!?' Loki growled at him 'Am I supposed to let you embrace me and comfort my _pain_ just because we both _happened_ to fall into the deadliest trap this cosmos ever knew!?'

'I am sorry!' Thor yelled 'Father is sorry!' One tear leaked out of his eye.

Loki rumbled with demented laughter. Rage mixed with amusement and disbelief.

'Sorry for _what_, _exactly_?'

Odinson's broad chest rose with a need for air, and even greater agony consumed him.

'Ah.' Loki said darkly. 'There _is more_.'

_What more than this? _

'Loki... The things father does and says. Even the things he _lets_ _happen_ and decides not to do anything about them. All of it - _all of it _has a purpose!'

'Oh, _spare_ _me_!' The god of lies hissed 'I've heard this little speech from mother _long ago_.' Loki mocked 'The great All Father _always_ loved to test us! To throw us in the wilderness and see what we do!'

'Yes, brother.' Thor said calmly, his hammer in his crushing hand 'And because of him, my spirit hardened, my arrogance disappeared! I learned from my mistakes, Loki!'

Loki continued pacing, a large black cloud traveling above them. The flock of raves flew from the tall pine.

And now they were completely alone.

Blue met green. Raised together for a millennium.

And in that moment, Loki felt the damage and harm unleashed upon him with that one gaze.

Now, he learned evil was not born. It was _made_.

'Oh no, no, no, no...' Terror swirled in the emerald gaze of the god of mischief as he finally realized what truly happened behind his back. What truly happened the night Darcy was killed ruthlessly.

'_He could not do anything, Loki._' Thor placed his hammer onto the dry, cracked ground. A small bush swayed with the wind, touching Thor's leather boots.

'Don't you dare-' Loki hissed sharply '-say another word.' His entire tall form was quivering, shaking, trembling with utter disbelief and madness. 'So..._father _thought leaving Darcy to die would be an apt punishment, a _suitable_ scourge for my earlier sins?'

'He _saw_ when she was injured? He witnessed when they showered her body with metal! SHE WAS SHOT ON THREE PLACES! Her neck, her leg, her chest!' Loki screamed in anger 'And he did... _nothing_?' Loki cocked his head dangerously to the side 'Why doesn't that surprise me?'

'Loki-'

'I SAID _BE SILENT!_' Loki howled at Thor, his voice echoing, running down the sharp cliffs. 'Be. Silent.'

The god of lies stepped closer, his face an inch from his _brother's, hissing and spitting _like a snake_._

'All of you shall fall before me.' Rocks broke and crunched under Loki's feet. '_All of you_, Thor.'

Thor couldn't stop himself '_Because of one person!?_'

'I destroyed an entire town because of my momentary rage at you!' Loki snarled 'You can be _damn_ sure I shall _burn _this pathetic excuse for a planet and _more_ realms when I'm finished - BECAUSE OF HER!' His voice was on the very edge, trembling.

This was the end of the conversation. Disgust was evident on Thor's face. He swung his hammer once by his side. Not much empathy was left inside him after Loki's words. his brother threatened Midgard, and with it - he threatened Jane, Erik Selvig. He threatened the world Thor loved.

Silence.

With the corner of his eye, Loki saw it in the distance. _At last._

The man of metal was getting nearer.

Loki gave a knowing smirk. His pupils dilated.

Thor opened his mouth, but nothing came out of it.

Tony Stark drove right into Thor, sending both of them flying across the black canopies of the old trees.

The famous lie-smith was alone once more.

And all that remained around him was emptiness and smoke.

**AN: How do you like the small twist? :) The song in the beginning is by Ioanna Gika ''Gone''. Please review!**


	24. Chapter 24

**AN: Here's a new chapter lovelies! I hope you'll enjoy it! Thank you so much to everyone that reviewed! While I wrote this I listened to:**

**Asura - Golgotha (he's one of my favorite trance artists) :)**

**Chevaliers De Sangreal (Theme from The Da Vinci Code) + Sara's Vocals **

**Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Marvel.**

* * *

Chapter 24

_If you could only see the beast you've made of me,  
I held it in but now it seems you've set it running free.  
Screaming in the dark, I howl when we're apart,  
Drag my teeth across your chest to taste your beating heart._

My fingers claw your skin, try to tear my way in,  
You are the moon that breaks the night for which I have to howl.

Now there's no holding back, I'm making to attack,  
My blood is singing with your voice, I want to pour it out.  
The saints can't help me now, the ropes have been unbound,  
I hunt for you with bloody feet across the hallowed ground.

Like some child possessed, the beast howls in my veins,  
I want to find you, tear out all of your tenderness,  
And howl, howl.

Be careful of the curse that falls on young lovers,  
Starts so soft and sweet and turns them to hunters.

* * *

'Do the frost giants still exist?' A small boy with raven black hair asked timidly, his soft voice barely above a whisper, afraid of the large, echoing room that loomed from each side, fires roaring in the background.

The blond boy came out of nowhere, cutting in, his blue gaze shining in boyish spunk 'When _I_ am king, I'll hunt the monsters _down_ and slay them _all_!' He smiled breathlessly 'Just as you did, Father.'

Odin's bearded white face shined in pride 'A _wise_ king _never_ seeks out war, _but...' _The Allfather lifted a finger in the air to show how important the next words were_._ '...He must _always_ be ready for it.'

...

The fog fell around Loki, growing thicker by the second, dust still flying in front of him, lifted in the cold air by the man of metal. Moonlight broke its way through the dark fog and black clouds. Loki shook in anger and coldness as he heard the voices of Odinson and Stark. They fought, like spoiled children wrestling over a toy. The dark wood screamed as it was being cut through. Lightning raged as Thor lifted his hammer, Stark flew around him and they fought.

_Foolish, arrogant, stupid and blind. Both of them._

Loki laughed raspily into the dry ground, his shoulders broader, his face paler, his fists tighter. He lifted his gaze to the foggy night and pale moonlight and whispered.

'You wanted war, old man.' The god of mischief swallowed the roar he wanted to unleash into the night 'And _war_ you _shall_ have.'

...

Phil Coulson walked nervously in front of the large glass wall on the massive Hellicarrier. His footsteps were heavy, and he wrapped his arms around himself as he shivered.

The quin-jet that was supposed to bring Loki to the base _still_ hasn't arrived.

Coulson gritted his teeth in frustration as dread washed over him. Ever since he found out Loki was to be brought to the Hellicarrier, he has not slept. For days, he rolled in his bed, unable to close his eyes.

Fear kept him awake. Fear, and _something_ _else_.

It was small, heavy and it shined, keeping Phil's eyes wide open, not letting him dive into much needed ocean of dream-less slumber. He took it form someone he shouldn't.

Phil pondered whether to call Director, whether to inform him of the delayed plane. Nick Fury closed himself in one of the rooms and ordered everyone to leave him alone for 3 hours.

But in these moments, Phil wanted to run to the Director's room, bang open the door and scream at his superior to tell the Avengers about Darcy Lewis, to admit what they did that night, to try and mend and talk to Loki of Asgard.

Because their enemy just _might_ listen if they tell him what _truly_ hapened. And only then, Nick Fury will have the full control over the situation.

_This is madness. Fury is risking all of our lives by keeping this from Stark, Banner, Romanoff... Thor._

The dangling secret of Miss Lewis compromised the well-being of their planet, and Coulson knew, despite all orders, he won't be able to keep it from everyone else.

He _will_ speak about it.

Phil's pale eyes watered in panic as he observed the dark twilight that danced over the massive flying beast, announcing a very dramatic entrance of the blackness of the night. Phil had to hold onto the freezing glass wall as the memory flashed inside his head.

...

_The horizon stretched endlessly, until Phil's shocked eyes fell to a pale, unmoving body._

'_Someone, call for help!'_

...

Why? Why did they touch them? Why didn't they just leave them alone when they had their chance? Why did Barton and Phil follow those orders? Why did Fury ever think playing with a god - a powerful, dangerous god - seemed like a good idea?

A phone rang, shining inside his suit pocket, and Phil reached for it. As he brought the glowing, vibrating screen to his tired eyes, Coulson had to swallow and, instinctively, his forefinger hooked inside the tight collar of his shirt, trying to give his throat some freedom.

The name and the number on the phone shined in the blue irises of SHIELD's agent. Phil answered, clearing his tight throat. 'Hello?'

A deep male voice spoke in broken English on the other side on the phone, thousands of miles away from Phil Coulson.

'Oh, Doctor Béringer. How are you?' Phil continued.

The voice traveled faster than light, the source settled amongst the high mountains, coated in Alpine snow, surrounded by frozen wind, but shielded in one of the best, most expensive Swiss clinics in Europe. Dr. Béringer was the best doctor of his generation, and in these moments, his usually light and cheerful tone was deep and heavy.

Phil's eyebrows knitted more and more as he listened to the man's voice.

'_Well, four months._' Coulson answered the doctors question.

The man continued to speak, and Phil shifted nervously on his spot.

'Gone?' This time, Phil didn't bother to hide the horror in his voice. 'What do you mean... _gone_?'

The doctor's reply was curt and short, announcing the end of their conversation.

'Thank you, doctor. Goodbye.' A soft click of Phil's phone was all that could be heard.

Coulson closed a palm over his mouth, his eyes fluttering shut. The agents bustling around him were more silent than usual, and Coulson noticed, as he observed their faces during the entire evening, _all_ of them looked worried.

Men, women. All of them looked as though they were expecting someone they didn't necessarily wish to see.

The news from Doctor Béringer still flew over Phil's head, not quite settling in. Feeling the familiar sensation of panic, Coulson, as always, reached inside his pant-pocket, gripping the Captain America cards inside his fist.

_You are not a child anymore, Phil. _

_Captain America cannot save you from this._

...

Loki walked through vein-like halls upon his arrival at the Hellicarrier.

No one touched him. No one spoke to him. No one looked his way once, for all of them were hidden behind masks, clutching their deadly weapons close to their chest in fear.

Loki strutted among them, his slicked back, raven hair shining in the artificial light of the halogen lamps that glowed above his head. His face was stony, stern and unrelenting as he looked around him. To the observing bystander, Loki's manners would resemble those of a king being led by his army to the grand hall, where he would sit upon his golden throne and rule his nation.

As the lie-smith passed close to a glass window, his ghostly pale cheeks stretched in a Cheshire grin.

Loki finally found his key, his play, his way out - in the confused, kind face of Doctor Bruce Banner.

Barton's words once again echoed in the trickster's mind.

'_About Banner…' Clint sighed 'There is not much to say. Absolute genius in his field, but one sad man. One of his experiments went wrong one day and since then - the poor bastard gets one moment of anger and turns into a big, green, rage monster. He breaks everything in his path, doesn't recognize anyone, doesn't listen… He just – destroys.'_

Oh, this was perfect. More than perfect. Loki saw how divided and prone to conflict the Avengers were. His dear brother and the man of metal nearly killed each other in their heated fighting, at the same time oblivious to the fact Loki could have escaped, with or without his scepter. And even now – as they led him to his _room_ – they failed to notice he _wanted_ to be caught.

By the time they realized it – it would be too late.

The beast will be set loose... And the fire will burn.

...

'Director Fury!' Coulson ran to the Bridge of the Hellicarrier where Fury stood, wrapped inside his thick black leather, deep scars emerging underneath the dark eye-patch, his face wrinkled and tired and so angry.

'_He's here._' Coulson breathed.

The Director took a step closer to Coulson, looking left and right, checking whether there was anyone who could see what he was about to do. Maria Hill was on the other side of the large room, talking to one of the male agents, other members were all busy and _no one_ was watching.

He stretched his dark palm forward, and Coulson's scared eyes followed it, not knowing what to do.

'Give it to me.'

'I don't-' Phil stuttered.

'I _know_ you have it.' Fury closed his one good eye 'I need it.'

Phil was silent, a scared child inside him frightened of his father, frightened of disobeying, frightened of punishment.

'Now.' Fury hissed lowly, his eyes begging Coulson not to make a scene in the room crowded with people.

Phil reached inside his breast pocket with ghostly pale fingers. He took the small object Fury wanted out of the comfortable protectiveness of his shirt, and placed it carefully inside the outstretched palm of Nick fury.

Immediately, Fury's fist closed in on it, and he pocketed it inside his deep leather pocket without a word.

'Sir, this is dangerous.' Coulson pressed tiredly, his eyes half-lidded and sad.

A cold glare was all Phil got, as Fury walked away from him, his steps swift and determined.

Agent Coulson knew the very steps Director Nick Fury took were the steps that lead to death, pain and misery. Inside, Phil sighed heavily, deciding that after all of this was finished, and if they still survived – he will be handing his resignation.

...

The thick glass and metal door hissed as they closed, and Loki rolled his eyes. _How utterly boring..._ Loki though in disappointment as he expected something more creative. These pathetic people thought the chamber would be able to contain Loki once it closed its doors.

Oh how wrong they were.

And as Loki slowly looked around him, observed the multiple cameras that filmed him, the metal and the hum of the giant machine he was locked inside. His face was passive and bored... until he heard footsteps behind him.

Heavy, arrogant, infuriating footsteps that belonged to Nick Fury.

The god of lies refused to turn around, and for a brief moment he just closed his eyes, swallowing the surge of black power he wanted to unleash on the Director. The glass cell suddenly felt so suffocating. He begged himself to compose, to calm down. Now, it was time for word-play... His favorite game.

'In case it's _unclear_...' Fury spoke loudly, confidence rolling off him. '...you try to _escape_, you so much as _scratch_ that glass.'

Loki took slow steps, each bringing him closer to the glass.

And now, his dark coat fluttered around him as the Director clicked a button and wind broke inside the chamber. Large metal lids of the eye of the Hellicarrier opened, threatening to drop Loki into the cloudy oblivion.

Wind screamed around the large room, and Fury yelled over it '_Thirty thousand feet_, straight down in a steel _trap_.' The dark man arched his eyebrow at Loki '_You get how that works?_'

Clicking a few more buttons, the eye closed, going back to sleep. With his hand he motioned at Loki '_Ant._' Then he pointed at the button '_Boot._'

_Oh, so the mortal has a sense of humor. _

Loki laughed, his baritone voice raspy and pleasantly amused.

'It's an _impressive_ cage.' Loki smiled, lifting his armor clad arms and motioning around him 'Not built, I think, _for_ _me_.'

'Built for something a lot _stronger_ than you.' Fury glared at the god of mischief.

The director though strength came only from physical supremacy, but what he was yet to learn – love and power of a god were a much more deadly combination, a much more vicious motivator.

'Oh, _I've_ _heard_.' And Loki turned his head slowly to one of the cameras, strutting in front of them proudly, for he knew very well Fury's group of heroes were watching his every move. The lie-smith ensured the next words were spoken in a whisper, provoking and mocking.

'A mindless beast, _makes_ _play_ he's still a man.'

The Director was silent.

Loki turned to Fury, his steps loud, his voice soft 'How _desperate_ are you?' Loki taunted 'You call on _such lost creatures_ to defend you.'

There was nothing that could defend Nick Fury. Not his heroes, not his glass cells. _The puny coward! _Outside, Loki wore a smirk, but on the inside he growled in disgust.

It seemed the moment Loki _insulted_ Fury's _merry band_, he struck a deliciously twitching nerve in the Director. '_How desperate am I? You threaten my world with war. You steal a force you can't hope to control. You talk about peace and you kill 'cause it's fun.' _

Loki observed him with a pale, impenetrable expression, and Fury's one good eye twitched_ 'You have made me very desperate. You might not be glad that you did.'_

_Was that a threat?_

' _Ooh._ ' The perverse desire to anger Nick Fury made Loki flutter in satisfaction, lowering his voice to a raspy whisper.

'It _burns_ _you_ to have come so close. To have the Tesseract, to have _power_, _unlimited_ _power_. And for _what_?' A charming, toothy smile stretched his unnaturally pale features, as Loki turned to one of the cameras 'A _warm_ _light_ for all mankind to _share_...' Soon, his grin faded 'And then to be reminded what _real_ power is.'

The angry, cold, confident face of Nick Fury suddenly shifted to reveal a smirk. Such smug, self-satisfied smile that lifted the left corner of his mouth not in a playful, but blankly repulsive way.

'Real power?' Fury taunted, and returning to the buttons, he clicked one that shut all the cameras that filmed them down, leaving the weak mortal and a wild god _all_ _alone_.

No one was even in the room.

Loki stared at Fury, confusion suddenly creeping its way into him, but he refused to show it on his face.

'Let me show you what _real_ _power_ is.' Fury's good eye narrowed as he out-dared the god of lies.

Loki wanted to say so much to this disgusting man, this arrogant mortal who needed to learn his place in this universe. Fury was responsible for Darcy's death, and Loki thought he might burst from anger when he remembered the last time they met, and Fury walked alive. Now, that the cameras were turned off and they were alone, Loki wanted to break the glass and rip Fury's beating heart out of his chest. But everything he felt, wanted and needed, was halted when Fury reached for his pocket.

The dark eyebrows of the god of mischief knitted in anger and agony, his emerald eyes watered in the corners when Nick Fury stretched his finger and dangled something in Loki's face. He mocked and dared Loki.

Swaying from side to side upon a white gold chain, was a small snake, pulsing with rainbow colors. The Bifröst necklace that belonged to Darcy. His Darcy.

_'Bifröst was built to connect, join, knit and link together all the Nine realms.' Loki whispered, taking a step closer to Darcy 'The fall from it brought me to you. You took this out of me. You healed me. I want you to have it.'_

_No._

'You see, Loki...' Fury relished the moment. '..._This_ is real power.'

'_Where_ did you get it ?' Loki flew to the glass, his pale palms placed over it, shaking mindlessly, his voice coiled and tight, strained with agony, wrath and on the verge of tears.

'When you hold something in your hand that has value to your enemy, when you hold the knowledge they _desperately_ search for, the control over one's mind and heart. This is _real_ power.'

'_WHERE_ DID YOU GET IT!?' Loki's chest rose rapidly with poisonous breaths and he released them through his white teeth, and now, he didn't contain nothing – neither his rage, nor his desire to destroy Fury.

'And I must say it's quite intoxicating to watch your enemy's mask fall apart before your eyes, only to reveal a pathetically _tender_ feeling.' Fury played with the necklace, twirling it on his finger.

Loki's fist flew faster than Thor's lightning. Violently, it met the thick glass of his prison. The entire cell shook, and a large spider – web crack formed underneath Loki's angry fist. 'Did _you_ take it from her? _TELL ME!_'

'You will leave this planet.' A smile fell from Fury's face, only to reveal what he wanted most. 'Leave and never come back.'

'Choose not to...' Fury pocketed the necklace '...And I will tell the world about your little love affair on Earth. You can imagine what it will do to your lady friend's good name.'

Loki moved from the glass, pacing restlessly, flexing his fists and breathing heavily. His hair, black as night, whipped around his furious face.

'A woman who loved and protected an enemy of Midgard. A filthy concubine who stood on the side of the evil, not caring what happened to her planet – Darcy Lewis.'

'YOU DO NOT DESERVE TO _UTTER_ HER NAME!' Loki screamed at Fury, his fists pressed onto the cold glass, spittle flying out of his mouth. Like an animal, he growled, wishing to murder the Director with his bare hands.

'And you don't deserve to be on my ship!' Fury matched Loki's yelling 'What makes you think you can simply land on Earth and claim it as your own just because you had a little quarrel with daddy!?'

Loki breathed hard, not saying anything. Fury now paced in front of Loki.

'It's amazing how I constantly need to repeat this! What did you expect!?' The Director placed his hands on his hips 'She refused to help us! She endangered the entire planet because of you! No sane person would do that!'

'She was the smartest and kindest person that ever walked this damned planet, you insolent bastard!' Loki growled, his eyes demented and dark 'You do not deserve to breath the same air she breathed!'

Fury tilted his head back.

Loki's eyes reduced to slits as he leaned closer to the crystalline surface, his breath fogging the glass. 'You think you can use this _against_ me, Fury?'

'I know I can.'

'Hmm...' Loki still quivered from hatred, but his voice calmed down to a whisper 'We both know that while I am here, you will not speak about this. It would only be harmful and counterproductive for your... little group of _heroes_.'

'This little group of heroes will be your _end_, Loki.'

A raspy laugh escaped the god of mischief. 'No, Fury. Your insolence, betrayal and what you did to Darcy Lewis will drive _you_ to your own. Bloody. End.'

With immense satisfaction, Loki saw fear flicking inside Fury's dark eyes.

'This cage will not be able to keep me away for too long. And once I am out, and you face me without anything between us...' Loki knocked on the thick glass '...I will ensure you burn in the eternal fires of Hel.'

And without a word, Director Nick Fury unglued his eyes from the god of mischief, turned on his heel, and walked away. The moment he left the echoing room, a soft _beep_ was heard, and the cameras were turned back on, their mechanical eyes following each breath, step and movement of the captured Norse god.

**AN: The song is Howl - Florence + The Machine. PLEASE REVIEW! :) :)**


	25. Chapter 25

**AN: OMG guys I'm so glad I updated :) Thank you so much to everyone that reviewed :D Uni has started, but nonetheless I'll try to update regularly - don't worry, this story is one of my greatest achievements and I DO NOT intend to leave it unfinished :D**

**While I wrote this I listened to: **

**My love - Sia (this song is also the one on the begging, and one of my favorite songs of all time)**

**In the House, In a Heartbeat - John Murphy (amazing soundtrack from '28 weeks later')**

**Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Marvel.**

* * *

Chapter 25

_My love, leave yourself behind,_

_Beat inside me, leave you blind,_

_My love, you have found peace,_

_You were searching for release._

_You gave it all into the call,_

_You took a chance and,_

_You took the fall for us._

_You came thoughtfully,_

_Loved me faithfully,_

_You taught me honor,_

_You did it for me._

_Tonight you will sleep for good,_

_You will wait for me, my love._

_Now I am strong, you gave me all,_

_You gave all you had,_

_And now I am home._

_My love, leave yourself behind,_

_Beat inside me, leave you blind,_

_My love, look what you can do,_

_I am mending, I'll be with you._

_You took my hand and added a plan,_

_You gave me your heart,_

_I asked you to dance with me._

_You loved honestly,_

_Did what you could release,_

_Now I am strong, you gave me all,_

_You gave all you had,_

_And now I am home._

_My love, leave yourself behind,_

_Beat inside me, I'll be with you._

* * *

_'Here- let me-' she reached to touch his forearm that clenched itself over his abdomen. The moment her fingers brushed his amour clad forearm, he screamed._

_'Don't you dare touch me, creature!' he gritted through his teeth in rage and pain._

…

_'I cannot die!' he barked suddenly at her 'Or are you so brainless and unintelligent that such simple a thought could slip your little mind!' Loki's eyes reduced to slits._

'_I don't know why I even helped you in the first place!' Darcy said bitterly._

_'I did not ask it of you.' he snarled, his patience wearing thin, as he slowly stood up to his full towering height._

_'You could've at least said thank you!' Darcy yelled._

_'I do not owe my gratitude to anyone! Especially not a mortal!'_

…

_'All those books that you read are nothing!' Loki motioned with his hands at the bookshelf filled with books on the other side of the large room. 'They mean nothing, because mortals who wrote them know nothing! And YOU know NOTHING!'_

_'Prove it then! Prove it if you can!' More tears surged forward, leaking in torrents down her pale cheeks._

_'I do not have to prove anything to you - a pathetic, silly little girl !'_

_..._

_As she sewed his wound, both were silent._

_'Am I hurting you?' she asked._

...

_'Loki...' Darcy started, placing her palm on his chest softly._

_Frozen heart skipped a beat as Loki breathed more deeply, his cold skin flamed by Darcy's small palm that rested so daintily on his chest. Slowly, Loki's arms trailed up, gently tracing Darcy's bare delicate shoulders, then softly around her neck. _

_'Darcy-' he started, deep voice growling and she looked at him with desperate brown eyes, slightly parted lips that just begged to be kissed._

_'Loki...' she repeated the name of the god of mischief, out of pure need for him, as her eyes fluttered closed. Their eager lips only seconds apart._

_..._

_'I thank you...' He said softly, looking at her like a hawk, with a slightly bowed head '...For not telling him.'_

_'You are growing fond of me, are you not?' he smiled toothily, finally stepping so close to her._

_'Well...' Darcy smiled shyly 'I only hope I won't come to regret it.'_

_'I imagine Asgard would sooner come falling down upon Midgard, than you feeling regret.' The long, pale finger that held Darcy's chin caressed her jawline slowly, stroking it in gentle deep movements._

_Darcy was speechless, looking up at the god of mischief timidly. When Darcy tried to move slowly around him, Loki's free hand went up and caught her upper arm in his. _

_'We are not done yet.' This time the trickster voiced his thoughts. And slowly, like a shadow, with half-lidded eyes, he leaned down._

_..._

_'Woman…' he growled, desire and need evident in his deep tenor '…give me your lips.'_

_You will be mine…_

_Loki then moved his palm gently to the back of her neck, holding her. Loki gazed deeply into her eyes, smirked and pulling her towards him, instantly covered her lips with his own._

_..._

_Her delicate back quivered with barely suppressed sobs as he pulled her in, his eyebrows knitted. With a tender hold on her shaking chin, Loki lifted her face to his, longing to see her beautiful eyes, her lips. Then, he gently placed the necklace around her pale neck_

_Tears still leaked down from Darcy's eyes, as she surrendered sadly to Loki._

_..._

_She simply fell into his arms, like a rag doll. The arch of Darcy's neck spasmed and convulsed as her throat filled with hot blood, the bitter coppery smell reaching Loki's nostrils, as her head leaned on his armor clad forearm._

_'Oh, Valhalla-' Loki choked as he held her, unable to say anything else 'Darcy! Look at me.'_

_Brown pools went in and out of focus, and before he knew what he was witnessing, Darcy choked a sob. _

_'For the love of-' he choked again, pressing his palms on he wound on her tight._

_Breathing thickly throughout his clenched teeth, Loki grasped the back of Darcy's knees, and shifted her easily, so she lay pressed to him completely. His eyes were wild, searching her white face, checking every single part of her._

_'Loki-' she whimpered, crying 'Loki-' She tried to yell his name, but gurgled slightly 'Help me-'_

_Blood pounded in Loki's head, and there it boiled, sending him in a fit of rage. His fists clenched and shook in anger as he grasped her upper body and lifted it gently._

_'Darcy- Listen to my voice!' _

_He felt that, if she perished - so would the small amount of sanity he still held inside._

_'I-' She whispered to him, her eyes now half-lidded as she moved her hand to his cold one, and moved it to her heart. The paleness of the tips of his long fingers smeared in her hot blood, as she guided him to take hold of her necklace._

_'I have no freedom without you.'_

_..._

Loki sat on the bench inside the glass cell.

Like a marble statue frozen in time, his dark, tense form was completely still and painfully strained.

The trickster knew the night has fallen. And even though the Midgardian eyes filmed him, Loki knew there weren't many watchful minds resting upon him.

And so he sat. Silent, tired and passive.

An aura of defeat creeped behind, towering like a morbid shadow over him. This defeat could be noticed only by someone who knew him, and knew him well...

But as far as Loki was concerned, there was not a living person who could read him.

Not anymore.

Loki gritted his teeth, biting the inside of him mouth until it bled heavily, because he _knew _what was approaching. It was this grotesque emotion, so foreign to him, so distant to his mind... And now – he felt it poisoned him, slowly flowing and crawling through each millimeter of him.

Guilt.

Unforgiving, torturing... so cruel, so hard for him to handle. Because it nearly killed him, nearly drained all that he loved and knew when Baldr died. After that day, Loki vowed never to feel it again. He hated it more than he hated Thor, more than he hated Thanos, Odin, Laufey, Fury. He hated it because it was the only thing that could bring him to his knees, draw salty tears upon his frozen cheeks... make him run in circles, lost inside a foggy maze until he curled in the corner of his own agony, and screamed.

And now... Darcy's shadow followed him to this flying beast. Loomed over him, filled this chamber until he couldn't breathe. Her smell, her eyes, her warmth, the distant echo of her laughter – it all twisted around him, making him retreat to the corner and close his eyes.

_Why did I listen to her? Why did I take her with me? Why was she so stubborn? Why did I yell at her? Why did I call her all these dreadful names? She tried to help me. I screamed at her. I hurt her. I should have walked out of the house alone. She didn't have to die. She -_

Loki's face was warped in inconsolable sadness, as he bowed it down, angry at his own weakness. His eyes watered, as cold tears dripped down his cheeks.

Steel hand clutched his heart, squeezing it in its unforgiving grip as Loki remembered Darcy.

The small line of concentration that would form between her eyebrows while she read something, the way she folded her hands in front of her when she was embarrassed, the softness of her warm hand upon his scalp, the much too loud laughter that would burst out of her mouth, her inappropriate humor, her terrible cooking, her soft, cotton, peach colored garment that clung onto her curves, her red fingernails, her chocolate eyes, her books. Her smile. Her kiss.

His large palms enclosed over his eyes, his mouth stretching in a mute wail, as he drew short breaths, wishing with each fiber of his being Darcy was there, sitting next to him, with a bored expression on her beautiful face, annoyingly blowing a strand of wild brown hair what constantly fell into her eyes. She could've been a perfect mother, a beautiful wife, an unparalleled friend and a life companion.

All of these possibilities, fantasies, alternative futures and distant wishes – all of them were gone, because Darcy was gone – and what made Loki seethe with anger was - he knew it was partially his fault.

For the first time in so many months, his ever brewing wrath was pushed into shadow to continue its dangerous existence, while guilt took over.

The god of mischief was known as the _sinner_. The one who embraced what was darkest and most mysterious inside all of us. All of these imperfections and flaws both mortals and gods so desperately tried to wipe out or hide… Loki accepted them, placing them next to his throne, keeping the balance in the universe. Except _one_.

His one sin Loki wanted to burn, together with himself, because the woman he loved died because of it. Because of his arrogance, his thirst for vengeance, his nerve… his own sick pride.

And Loki learned just then, once all of his turmoil came crashing down on him… He learned how _terribly_ he missed her.

Valhalla, he missed her.

The strained plea found its way out of the very pit of Loki's eternal soul, flowing out of his mouth like black liquid, dripping on the metal floor, nearly turning his eyes red, nearly turning his skin blue.

'_Please forgive me._'

...

A rustling of a silver bag of blueberries swirled in the glass lab along with the soft hum of the computers. Loki's scepter glinted menacingly, propped elegantly on the large desk in front of Bruce Banner and Tony Stark.

'You think Fury's _hiding_ something?' Steve Rogers looked coldly at Stark, their heated conversation nearly becoming a real argument.

As always, Tony was quick to retort, '_He's a spy._' His _heart_ glowed under his printed t shirt. 'Captain, he's _the_ spy. His _secrets_ have _secrets_.' He nonchalantly popped a blueberry inside his quick mouth.

Then he pointed at Banner, chewing loudly 'It's bugging him too, _isn't it_?'

'Uh...I just wanna finish my work here and...' Bruce was hesitant, like a small child who ran home after witnessing a fight in the school yard, afraid to be seen, to be involved.

'_Doctor?_'

Bruce Banner swallowed, his eyes watering under the glasses _'A warm light for all mankind_...' Bruce took off his glasses, smirking 'Loki's jab at Fury about the Cube.'

Steve's expression remained intact, distant and cold. '_I heard it._'

'Well, I think that was meant for _you_.' Bruce pointed with his glasses to Tony 'Even if Barton didn't tell Loki about the Tower it was still _all over_ the news.'

...

It was a highly unusual sight, even on an object such as Hellicarrier.

The god of thunder and Son of Coul. The mighty god and the mortal walked slowly across many steel bridges that overlooked the large room, brimming with agents.

Thor's huge, muscled hands swung by his sides as he strutted next to Phil Coulson, talking to him as if they were some old friends. Relief was visible on his face – the knowledge that Jane was safe and away comforted him, relaxing the ever-present knot at the base of his stomach.

Thor continued, his deep voice heavy with troubled thoughts, strained with tears that he would never release in front of these people. Thor's tall form walked to the glass wall on the side of the large chamber, observing the night and the cloudy, hollow ground underneath him.

'When I first came to Earth, _Loki's rage_ followed me here and _your_ _people_ paid the price.' Thor looked to the floor in distress, swallowing the molten sorrow inside his throat. 'And now _again_.'

'In my youth I _courted_ war.' Thor said desperately, look to the sky with bitter regret.

...

_The blond boy came out of nowhere, cutting in, his blue gaze shining in boyish spunk 'When I am king, I'll hunt the monsters down and slay them all!' He smiled breathlessly 'Just as you did, Father.'_

_'The Jotuns must pay for what they have done!'_

_'March into Jotunheim as you once did! Teach them a lesson! Break their spirits, so they would never dare try to cross our borders again!'_

_..._

Phil listened to the god of thunder with a solemn expression, his arms folded in front of him.

**'**War hasn't started _yet_.' Out of nowhere, Fury appeared, as dark as ever 'You think you can make Loki tell us _what_ the Tesseract _is_?'

He was like a black raven, hiding inside a knotted canopy... You never knew when it was listening or when it will fly out.

Phil had to look the other way. He knew the act fury was putting up all to well. And the fact that he was hiding the truth about Darcy Lewis from Thor and the rest of the Avengers never ceased to shock agent Coulson. Disgust at the Director's actions once again welled up inside him.

_'_I do not know.' Thor's proud forehead wrinkled in worry and anger 'Loki's mind is _far afield_, it's not just _power_ he craves, it's _vengeance_...' And Thor stopped. Then, he _lied_ '...upon me.'

But the god of thunder didn't have to lie for too long. The next words were as true as the title Thor carried with his name.

'There is _no pain_ that would _prise_ his _need_ from him.'

The god of lightning knew that all too well... Loki's insanity came from his deepest pain.

And Thor feared for everyone. Even himself.

But this was a secret Thor decided to keep. Another layer of frost upon his brother didn't have to be revealed to these mortals, as much as Thor helped and respected them.

'A lot of guys think that...' Fury soundlessly stepped down '...until the pain _starts_.'

'What are you asking me to do?' Thor inquired, his eyes uncertain.

Fury leaned closer, his ardent face saying more than his words 'I'm _asking_, what are you _prepared_ to do?'

Coulson simply watched silently, a distant observer in the shadow of the background.

'Loki is a _prisoner_.'

_As if that meant something._

The Director rose his voice, his eyes boring into Thor's 'Then _why_ do I feel like he's _the only person_ on this boat that _wants_ to _be_ here?'

What neither Thor, Coulson nor Fury knew, was they all shared a secret, a fact, a crucial information that would play a large role in the outcome of the war, that will change the very meaning of heroes and villains.

Because, their lives, their actions and morals were so ridiculously mingled, one could not separate heroes from villains, valor from arrogance, good from evil.

Not even a pair of scared brown eyes, peeping from under a collar, bundled in a navy blue sweatshirt, flying on ten thousand feet over the Atlantic, hoping to arrive home _on time_.

**AN: I'm sorry if the flashback parts were too long, but just ALL of them were so important, because all of them triggered feelings of guilt inside him which were kind of an unexplored parts of his character. I got so emotional while writing the Loki part of the story. He has really become my friend over this summer... Review! :)**


	26. Chapter 26

**AN: Here's a new one! :D Thank you so much to everybody who reviewed! Enjoy! While I wrote this I listened to: **

**Pirates of the Caribbean - Calypso**

**I love you all so much and thank you for your continuous support! :) :)**

**Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Marvel.**

* * *

Chapter 26

_There's a reckoning a'coming,  
It burns beyond the grave.  
There's lead inside my belly,  
'Cause my soul has lost its way._

_Oh Lazarus, how did your debts get paid?  
Oh Lazarus, were you so afraid?_

_When the fires, when the fires have surrounded you,  
With the hounds of hell coming after you,  
I've got blood, I've got blood on my name._

* * *

Black heeled boots clicked on the steel ground, the feline walk echoing as she moved.

Her steps were determined, each enveloped in a coquettish slowness. The intoxicating perfume radiated from her fiery locks, the invisible elixir drawing men like poison to a delicate net, a feminine web of the Black Widow.

The doors opened.

And Loki halted.

For an hour, he paced the outrageously small glass prison, long black leather swaying with his heavy steps. His hair was so black, it looked unnatural against his pale skin. Every single part of him appeared more prominent, devilish and wicked under the artificial light of the prison.

The trickster knew who paid him a visit. He _expected_ her. With his broad back turned towards the sound of the approaching steps, Loki's mouth twitched in a knowing smirk, and he gave a low purr.

'There's not many people who can _sneak up_ on me.'

When she spoke, her voice was low, and Loki noticed the telltale cracking on the ends of her soft words. It told him the story of her fear, and the amount of courage she had to summon to talk to him. Her legs were planted firmly on the ground as she stood close to the thick glass. The god of lies observed her small form, the curvaceous body, the scarlet lips, the flame inside her eyes that matched the intensity of her crimson hair… And while in different circumstances Loki might try a different approach with a pretty things such as herself, Loki decided otherwise, because the minute she walked in, he felt that ever brewing anger returning, together with his desire to_ snap her in two_.

Natasha Romanoff looked at the god of mischief with cold, steely gaze, her proud Russian chin held high, her jaw set.

'But you _figured_ I'd come.'

Her mask of strength and indifference, her apathetic gaze was nothing but another show she put on for her perpetual audience.

Her lies, her deceit, her unstoppable _acting_… Loki saw right through it. And this was one performance by Natasha Romanoff that shall not be awarded with an applause.

'_After_.' Loki relaxed his broad shoulders as he stepped towards Natasha. His enigmatic face jumped between furious and playful as he spoke. And while his gaze seemed light, there was a dangerous storm brewing behind those two haunting emeralds.

'After whatever _tortures_ Fury can _concoct_…'

_Swaying from side to side upon a white gold chain, was a small snake, pulsing with rainbow colors. The Bifröst necklace that belonged to Darcy. His Darcy._

'…you would appear as a _friend_, as a _balm_.' His eyebrows curved in mock endearment, as he tipped his head ever so slightly to the side. In that moment Loki's handsome face stretched into a charming, white-toothed grin. 'And I would _cooperate_.'

Charming yes. But bordering with insanity.

'I wanna know what you've done to _Agent Barton_.'

_A heavy, armor clad arm flew to the side of Clint's head before he could finish. His eyes closed as the violent impact left his head screaming in pain. He thought his skull broke when he hit him. As Clint rolled on the ground, Loki's heavy leg swung and met Barton's stomach with unnatural speed and strength. One, two, three times. He gasped for breath as the air was kicked out of his lungs, his muscles burned. Holding his stomach, Barton coughed in pain._

_Releasing a ragged breath through his white teeth, Loki looked around himself in madness and then back at Barton. Crouching down, he took hold of Barton's neck with strong pale fingers and lifted him up by his throat. Barton's feet dangled a few inches from the ground as Loki drew him nearer to his furious visage and then spat in his face._

Loki's eyebrows lifted comically and he said the next words lightly, his voice covered in silk.

'I'd say I've _expanded_ his mind.'

Natasha's forehead wrinkled, and with great satisfaction, Loki thought of the images that appeared in front of her eyes, rolling like a silent horror film.

She took slow steps, now standing next to a chair, closer to the lie-smith than ever before.

He could practically smell her fear, as well as her exotic perfume.

'And once you've _won_. Once you're _king of the mountain_.' Natasha elegantly folded her arms in front of her. 'What _happens_ to his mind?'

_Oh mortal… You are like a book - parted, blunt, bare… Ready for me. Begging to be read._

'_Ooh_.' Loki breathed dementedly, his green eyes glinting sharply. 'Is this _love_, Agent Romanoff?'

Her answer was as swift and confident as the blows she rained upon her enemies 'Love is for _children_. I owe him a _debt_.'

The god of lies felt the familiar pull of déjà vu as the scene in front of him deliciously resembled something he already experienced.

A chance to play with _a mind of a lover_.

Loki knew what it felt like. He knew the _agony_ of it. And now he wanted _her_ to feel it. Slowly, intimately… _Just_ as he felt it.

'Tell me.' He motioned with his arms for her to sit down. And she did - soundlessly, like a shadow.

'_Before_ I worked for SHIELD, I-uh...' Natasha slipped in the metal chair, smiling slightly '…_well_, I made _a name_ for myself. I have a _very specific_ skill-set. I didn't care who I used it for, _or on_. I got on SHIELD's radar in a bad way.'

Loki observed Natasha through the thick glass, his mouth slightly opened as he took slow breaths, glaring at Natasha lowly, his head tilted down in a menacing way, the pale light glowing on his proud forehead.

Natasha's bottom lip quivered, her eyelids fluttering slowly 'Agent Barton was sent to kill me… he made a _different_ call.'

With his knees parted, Loki leaned his forearms on his thighs, hunching his broad back lower 'And _what_ will you do if I _vow_ to spare him?'

His deep murmur traveled to Natasha's ears and she smiled in amusement '_Not let you out._'

'_Ah, no. But I like this!'_ But Loki's amusement was bigger and he cut through the very end of her sentence 'Your world in _the_ _balance_, and you _bargain_ for _one man_?'

'_Regimes_ fall _every day_. I tend not to weep over that, I'm Russian.' She shook her head absentmindedly '_Or I was_.'

_Clint continued 'She was born in Stalingrad, Russia. Her parents died in a fire when she was a child and she was raised by a man called Petrovich. He taught her everything. She became a criminal early. Much too early.'_

Loki licked his lips, his head cocked to the side 'And what are you _now_?'

'It's really not that complicated.' Finally, she stood up, crossing her arms again, a bracelet of long black bullets gracing her right wrist. The cold metal glinted in the dark.

_The side of her pale arched neck was graced with a large gash where a bullet grazed her. Blood fell from it slowly. Her jean-clad thigh was pierced right through, blood gushing out of it, and dripped down, creating a puddle at her feet. Moving up, as if in slow motion, Loki saw another hole made by the cursed bullet. It was just above her heart, close to her shoulder, but lower._

'I've got _red_ in my ledger, I'd like to _wipe it out_.' Her confident smile welled up once again-

The bullets on Natasha's wrist, the memory that night in the desert, of agent Barton shooting an arrow twice, the rain of metal unleashed upon Darcy, the wind, the smoke... the blood.

Rage lifted inside Loki like hot steam. But he forced himself not to show it on his face. _Not yet._

'Can you? Can you wipe out _that much red_?' He narrowed his eyes '_Drakoff's daughter_? _Sao Paulo_? _The hospital fire?'_

Loki too stood up to his full frightening height 'Barton told me _everything_.' Then, he started walking towards the only thing that separated them. The sinews of Natasha's neck tightened in panic, fear welling inside her pale eyes.

In that moment, agent Romanoff knew - not even the cell made to contain _the Hulk_ seemed like a good enough prison for the power and anger of a provoked and enraged Norse god.

'Your ledger is _dripping_, it's _gushing_ red, and you think saving a man _no more virtuous_ than _yourself_ will _change_ anything!?'

Loki was now facing his own reflection, the face of a man, transformed by obsession, warped by pain and disfigured by vengeance growled back at him as he approached it.

'This is the _basest_ sentimentality.' Loki scoffed, shaking his head from side to side 'This is _a child_ at _prayer_. _Pathetic!_' The god of lies spat, disgusted by Natasha Romanoff and everything she stood for.

_How dare she beg for his safety? After all she's done. After all he's done!_

'You _lie_ and _kill_ in the service of _liars_ and _killers_. You pretend to be _separate_, to have _your own code_, something that makes up for the _horrors_. But they are _a part of you_, and they will_ never go away_.'

_'Don't you dare try to vindicate anyone.' Loki growled at Barton's face that slowly turned purple and his eyes bulged out of his skull as his throat was being crushed by deadly fingers. Loki held him in the air by this windpipe like a puppet._

_'You are a pathetic liar.' Loki's lips quivered in rage, venom seeping from the corner of his pale lips 'A worthless weakling crawling in service of an arrogant organization.'_

A surge of sickening need to threaten and torture welled up inside him again, just as it did with Barton, and Loki hammered his fist to the glass for the second time that day. The boom made Natasha jump, her eyes fluttering in fright and shock. The act of the Black Widow slowly fell apart before _this_ deadly audience.

Loki snarled angrily, tightening his fist more with every biting word, his chuckles turning white 'I won't _touch_ Barton! Not until I _make him kill you_. _Slowly, intimately, in every way he knows you fear_.' The inhuman growl echoed through the large room, Loki's eyes flashing 'And then he'll wake _just long enough_ to see his _good_ work, and when he screams _I'll split his skull_!'

Natasha turned away from the god of lies, her face trembling, lips shaking, eyes nearly spilling tears.

'This is my bargain, _you_ _mewling_ _quim_!' The demented desire to hurt Natasha Romanoff still fluttered inside him.

A moment of silence passed quickly, filled with nothing but their own breathing.

'You're a monster.' She whispered, her voice fluttering, weeping.

_'Darcy-' he said 'Darcy!' He now growled her name like a caged animal, his lips quivering with sadness and rage. Loki hugged her waist tighter, clinging to her. Feeling the life leaving her body, he leaned his forehead to her own and gritted his teeth, trying to muffle the angry roar he felt building in his chest, bursting from his throat like an angry tide._

'Oh no.' Loki rasped with low laughter, sending shivers down Natasha's spine. '_You_ _brought_ _the monster_.'

Indeed, SHILED and all who worked for it brought the monster. _Both_ monsters. Bruce Banner, the troubled, cursed soul. And the beast Loki has become. The beast that slept inside him, and now ran like devil chased it, with bloody fangs and insatiable hunger - for blood, for destruction, for death.

Loki knew what Natasha Romanoff wanted. He _knew _Barton and she were involved, maybe even in love. But he didn't care, he showed no sympathy, no mercy.

Because if his love was taken from him, and he would make sure no one else on this planet felt it. Not love, not compassion, not peace. Especially not the one that held the blame from what happened to Darcy.

Suddenly, her shoulders stopped shaking and Natasha turned.

'So, banner? That's tour play?' Her voice was smooth. No evidence of tears or red eyes greeted Loki, and for a brief moment - he was left…. _impressed_.

'What?' He narrowed his eye, the word coming out as nothing more than a raspy breath.

Swiftly, agent Romanoff turned her nimble body, and walked to the exit, immediately talking into her earpiece 'Loki means to unleash the Hulk. Keep Banner in the lab, I'm on my way, send Thor as well.'

Just before she went out of the door, Natasha twirled gracefully, a small satisfied smile playing on her pretty face '_Thank you,_ for your _cooperation_.'

With that, she turned, and started walking away. But her black boot never touched the threshold.

Because Loki _clapped_ slowly. Clapped his large palms together in a slow applause.

In utter disbelief, Natasha turned. Loki stood there, glass in front of him cracked, twisting his handsome face, together with a delighted grin.

For a few moments the norse god simple looked at her with comically wide eyes, and in that moment Natasha truly believed there was no reason left inside him.

'Thank _you, Natasha, _for this splendid performance_.' _Loki exclaimed breathlessly, pressing his palm flat on the smooth surface._ '_I_ quite _enjoyed it_.'_

Natasha said nothing. Incredulity still etched upon every inch of her smooth face.

'But not as much as I enjoyed beating Barton.' Loki lifted his eyebrows in mock surprise 'Or all the _wonderful_ _tales_ he told me!'

Everything in Natasha stopped, and only her heart beat slowly, like a war drum in her ears. She practically tasted the slow rhythm of it, licking her dry lips as she glared at Loki.

'Does it _feed_ your _ego_, _Laufeyson_?' Natasha replied in anger, her steely eyes glaring at him. 'To hurt someone who is _unable_ to fight back?' She asked evenly, her voice now truly fluttering in emotion.

'_No_.' Loki purred, his half lidded green gaze shining in mischief and wickedness 'It brings me _immense_ pleasure to see you afraid, and even greater amusement when you so pathetically try to hide it, _Drakoff's daughter_.'

'I'm not the one who is wearing a mask, Loki.' Natasha replied coldly.

'If it were true, my darling' Loki smirked, lightly leaning on the glass '_you_ would not feel the need to convince me otherwise.'

It was Natasha's turn to smile 'Don't you dare assume you know what I feel.'

'I do not assume I know, agent Romanoff. I know _I know_.'

Again, Natasha's bullet bracelet glinted 'You won't be able to keep Barton as a prisoner under your spell forever.'

'No. I will not.' Loki nodded slowly, his face cold 'But I _guarantee_ _you_ his freedom will be _quite_ short.'

Natasha swallowed and with a great ball of lead inside her stomach, she turned and exited the room without a word.

The delighted smile of the god of lies stretched as he returned to his seat, and waited.

He waited. For his key, his only way out of here.

For the roar.

For the almighty bellow of the green rage monster.

…

Even before his phone rang, Phil Coulson knew who called.

The ring was the same as usual. The same boring tune that announced another task, order and request of his superiors.

But this time, Phil could feel the anger of the person form the other side, and it didn't surprise him when he found out... he took _pleasure_ in it.

'Hello?' Coulson's voice was light and relaxed.

Fury was fuming on the other side of the phone, on the other side of the Hellicarrier.

'Béringer called.'

'Yes, sir?'

'_Why the hell_ didn't you inform me of this?' The Director's voice shook slightly.

Phil was silent, as he checked his watch for the time.

'Track her down. This instant.'

'She's _not_ on the radar, Director.' Coulson sighed, a smirk playing on the corner of his lips.

Fury laughed humorlessly, still raging 'I don't even want to _hear_ that.'

'Sir, she is not a registrated member of SHIELD. I can't simply click a button and give you the coordinates to her current location.' Phil smiled enigmatically '_I'm sorry._'

_He wasn't sorry. Not one bit._

'Don't _lie_ to me Coulson!' Fury growled on the other side.

'Of course not, sir.' Phil nodded 'There are _plenty_ of them coming out of your mouth. Have a nice day.'

And before he pressed the END CALL button, Coulson heard the muffled growl of anger coming from the speaker.

He clicked the phone.

His feet carried him swiftly through many corridors of the grand Hellicarrier, and as Phil passed next to a lonely bin, he dropped the ringing phone in. It gave a loud _clang _as it shattered again the bare metal, and for the first time in many years, Phil felt truly _released_.

Before his brain made that decision, his legs steered his body to the direction of the main laboratory, to meet the group extraordinaire, the Avengers, the protectors of his planet, of his home.

All of them deserved to know a secret. A secret that will change everything.

He gripped the Captain America cards inside his pocket.

And finally, after so many years, agent Phil Coulson sensed his sins were purging.

**AN: The song is called Blood on my name - The Wright Brothers. Review !**


	27. Chapter 27

**AN: Lovelies... I REALLY hope you enjoy this one. THANK YOU to everyone who reviewed - I love you! **

**While I wrote this I listened to: Hans Zimmer - Time & Man Of Steel Trailer Music (again I know) :3**

**Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Marvel.**

* * *

Chapter 27

_Does this darkness have a name?_

_This cruelty, this hatred._

_How did it find us?_

_Did it steal into our lives?_

_Or did we seek it out and embrace it?_

_What happened to us?_

_That we send our children into the world, like we send young men to war._

_Hoping for their safe return._

_But knowing that some will be lost along the way._

_When did we lose our way?_

_Consumed by the shadows_

_Swallowed whole by the darkness?_

_Does this darkness have a name?_

_Is it your name?_

* * *

The air was heavy with tension. Lies spoken, acts preformed, killings commited – it all boiled, smoking, bubbling, threatening to explode at any given second.

The morals were gone – all sense of right and good blown away with the swift wind that streamed soundlessly against the surface of the Hellicarrier.

The same wind swept a smaller jet. Inside it, rested weapons, explosives… and a Hawk. Like black warriors, hypnotized by their master, agitated by the frightening lack of emotions, they waited for the perfect moment.

'What are you doing, Mr. Stark?'

The black-clad form of Nick Fury stepped inside the main laboratory, only to find Bruce Banner, leaning back, looking relaxed as ever… and Tony Stark – sitting on the table, all work forgotten.

The nasal and utterly bored tone of one of the wealthiest men on Earth reached Fury quicker than he expected 'Uh..._kind of_ been wondering the same thing about _you_.'

The artificial light above Fury's shining bald head suddenly felt very hot, and a sheen of nervous perspiration broke on the nape of his neck.

'You're supposed to be locating the Tesseract.' Fury said, his large palms immediately pressing on his hips, bunching the thick black leather so he truly looked like a fierce bird – not so different from the logo SHIELD so proudly carried.

'_Yeah_, the model's locked and we're sweeping for the signature now.' A small smile played on the usually serious face of Bruce Banner 'When we get a hit, we'll have the location within half a mile.' And he gestured towards one of the screens behind the Director.

Then, Banner looked down, licking his lips with a small smirk, as if he enjoyed the discomfort him and Tony slowly pushed Fury in.

'And you'll get your cube back…' Tony's chocolate brown eyes swept across one of the screens '…no muss, no fuss. _What is_ Phase 2?

There was a loud, cringe-worthy, echoing _clang_. Before Fury turned, he closed his eyes, already knowing who stood behind him and exactly what it was that made the noise.

It was a fire-spitting, death-brining experiment. A greedy idea, falsely justified by words like _protection_ and _safety_.

Even in the glass wall in front of him, Fury could discern the blurry reflection of the blues, reds and whites, the bright patriotic colors of Captain America.

'Phase 2 is SHIELD used the Cube to make _weapons_!' Steve said the last word so fiercely, the very moment the sentence broke its way through him, Fury's head bowed down – and both Tony and Bruce knew they just cracked open a Pandora's box the Director so _desperately_ wanted to hide.

'_Sorry_.' Still angry from the previous discussion, Steve gazed coldly at Tony 'The computer was moving _a little slow_ for me.'

Fury lifted his hand in front of him, moving over to stand next to Steve 'Rogers, we gathered _everything_ related to the Tesseract. This does not mean that we're-'

Tony gazed in disgust at the back of Nick Fury's proud head, he hopped from the desk and rudely interrupted Fury.

'I'm sorry, Nick!' _No, he wasn't._

Irritation burst on Fury's face as Tony swiftly moved the computer screen towards him. Upon the see-through surface of the high-end technology screen, like a hand-drawn sketch, pulsing and shining like a futuristic Da Vinci drawing, were plans of the weapon.

Deadly, unrestrainable and utterly _wrong_.

'What were you _lying_?'

By now, all three men were on their feet, their shocked, _exploited_ eyes directed on the face of Nick Fury.

The director looked in bewilderment around him, his usually threatening, important person now looking so small, so _meaningless_.

'I was wrong, Director.' Steve folded his large arms in front of him 'The world hasn't changed _a bit_.'

...

_'No, actually, we evolved quite nicely.' Darcy said, sitting down on a chair in front of the coffee table. 'But at the same time we remained close-minded and primitive.'_

_'Have you, now?' he said, leaning his elbows on his knees._

_'Yes. I don't know when you visited Earth, but for a mortal nation, we are special.'_

_..._

Soon, all eyes were on the entrance of the white, metal laboratory.

The moment Thor walked in, everything seemed smaller. His tall person was grim, tense and on the verge of breaking. His young face was wrinkled, his blond locks messy and hanging around his face. His huge muscled arms were folded over his broad chest as he leaned back, and observed everyone.

Behind him, walking swiftly and looking comically small compared to the Norse god, was Natasha Romanoff.

She looked as cold and indifferent as always, but if one looked more carefully, deep bags of tiredness hung heavily under her eyes. Spilled blood filled her grey gaze to the brim.

Tony gave Natasha a side glance, too observant and intelligent not to notice she was crying.

_Romanoff - crying?_

But Bruce didn't notice, nor did he care. He stepped closer to Natasha, raising his voice in shock 'Did you _know_ about this?'

Her black cat suit strangled her lungs, her strength and confidence shaken by the images their enemy forced on her – the pain, the suffering, but most of all the helplessness of her _one_ _weakness_ – Clint.

'You wanna think about _removing_ _yourself_ from this environment, doctor.' Her face stayed the same, even though Natasha felt she might burst at any second.

A humorless, dry laugh almost flew out of Bruce 'I was in Calcutta, I was _pretty well removed_.'

She would endure. She would find Clint. She would make him the master of his _own body and mind_ once again. But right now – they needed to keep the beast from running.

'Loki's _manipulating_ you.'

'And you've been doing what exactly?' Doctor's voice was smooth, but his face was disgusted and edgy.

It was Natasha's turn to step closer 'You didn't come here because I _bat_ _my eyelashes_ at you.'

'Yes, and _I'm not leaving_ because suddenly you get a little _twitchy_.' Bruce purple shirt suddenly felt tight around him as he moved to one of the screens, pointing with his glasses as he demanded** '**I'd like to know _why_ SHIELD is using the Tesseract to build weapons of mass destruction!?'

All eyes were turned to Fury, as everyone held their breath, hoping to hear at least one shred of reason behind all this madness.

There was a moment of silence.

Until _all lights_ went out.

The light in the corridor and the rest of the Hellicarrier seemed untouched, people continued their work, but the lights in the main laboratory were _shut down_.

Natasha instinctively reached for the black gun that rested on her hip, her fiery lock visible as a streak of light entered from the main hall.

Tony and Bruce looked at each other in the darkness as Steve stepped to the middle of the room. Bruce moved to the nearest light switch, clicking it, but nothing happened.

'What's going on?' Rogers inquired with a heavy frown, his attractive face warped in uncertainty.

'Hill-' A small red dot shined in the earpiece Fury wore. No one answered, only soft humming. 'Hill?' Fury repeated, this time louder.

'She won't answer you, Director.'

A shadow fell over the only source of light they had. An elongated shadow moved forward.

Everyone jumped and turned to meet none other than Agent Phil Coulson.

'I'm afraid there is more behind this story than just weapons, Doctor Banner.'

'Coulson-' Nick Fury hissed, his heavy boots stomping to meet him, but Rogers moved his strong arm, halting Fury mid-step. He looked up at Captain with his one good eye, and if Steve didn't know better – he could see fear inside the Director's one good eye.

'_No_.' Steve's voice was low. His hand was keeping Fury back, blue eyes never leaving one dark eye 'Please continue, Agent.'

Natasha removed her hand from her gun, instead tucking them behind her back.

She waited.

'Phil, what-?' Tony looked at Coulson with uncertainty and confusion. Bruce matched Tony's expression, but with a far darker tint in his gaze.

Thor, on the other hand, was completely silent. Not a whisper of the rumbling voice, not the whiff of the deep breathing came from him - just quiet.

Only his eternal azure eyes jumped from Coulson to Fury, shoulders hunched, lips pressed together in a thin line. His fists balled, shaking, as a memory invaded his mind.

_'And this is supposed to mean something to me!?' Loki growled at him 'Am I supposed to let you embrace me and comfort my pain just because we both happened to fall into the deadliest trap this cosmos ever knew!?'_

_'I am sorry!' Thor yelled 'Father is sorry!' One tear leaked out of his eye._

_Loki rumbled with demented laughter. Rage mixed with amusement and disbelief. 'Sorry for what, exactly?'_

_Odinson's broad chest rose with a need for air, and even greater agony consumed him._

_'Ah.' Loki said darkly. 'There is more.'_

The room was like a sky filled with too many dark clouds. Like a glass filled with too much water. Like a head filled with too much _fear_.

'Let's watch a _movie_.'

Coulson said, his face hidden in the shadow. No more words were needed, and before Fury could protest, before he could lunge at Phil, curse him, spit his threats and warnings, agent Phil Coulson clicked a small remote.

The large screens shined again, their transparent surface bursting to life as a black and white footage started rolling.

Fury jerked Rogers' arm away from him, his head falling to his hands as he shut his one eye in defeat.

The colorless recording seemed very poor quality for the expensive screen, the small red numbers on the right down corner marking hours, minutes and seconds.

The scene came to life. And breath inside Thor's lungs hitched when the large screen split in four separate sections, each showing the Glass house in Puente Antiguo from a different angle or room.

The vision of Jane appeared inside Thor's mind and he remembered all the hours he has spent inside that house, and on its roof – the stars they gazed upon together, the black leather notebook he returned to Jane after it was stolen from her. The warm clothes she gave him, the smell of her hair.

He remembered Erik Selvig, a kind friend. His suspicious face that grew warmer as he and Thor became closer – the late nights in the desert, the careless banter over golden Midgardian mead.

And Darcy. One person from this strange realm he did not fully understand. The one he never bothered to get to know.

She was just… _there_. A friend of Jane and Erik. A funny thing with spectacles, small weapon and dark hair. But nothing more.

And now, he felt his gut clenching. Now, two people Thor would not dream in a thousand years to get together appeared on screen.

Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Bruce Banner, Thor and Natasha Romanoff stared in confusion at the large screens around them.

Darcy Lewis dragged Loki Laufeyson in the large living room area by his shoulders, the face of the god of lies twisting in pain.

'Is that-?' Bruce started, but soon stopped himself.

At one moment Loki opened his mouth, screaming in agony. The footage was completely silent, but all of them heard him _nonetheless_.

Thor gulped heavily, feeling as though a cannon ball was dropped inside his belly.

She laid him down onto the sofa, and then disappeared for a few moments, only to reappear with the golden horned helmet gripped tightly in her arms. She placed it on the table and Loki took it in his arms. It glowed, and Darcy was suddenly cowering and looking away until he stopped glowing, until he threw his helmet back, sitting up as if she wasn't practically carrying the tall man only _minutes_ ago.

They exchanged a few words, and she left. After that, the tape stopped. Only to reveal the same room but from a different angle.

Now, Darcy and the enemy talked, she sat cross legged on the chair opposite him, holding a glass of water. She smiled, making him arch his eyebrow as he removed the ice-cubes from his glass.

Darcy stood up suddenly, and walked to the widow. There she stood, not looking back, and she seemed to be saying something.

Everyone in the room observed as Loki too stood up, walking towards her, slowly, determinedly, like a predator advancing on its prey.

'What the-?' Bruce started, thinking Loki was going to attack her, but Tony shushed him.

Darcy jumped in surprise when she found him behind her. And before Bruce could say another word, Loki took her hand in his and pressed a deep kiss onto the very top of it.

Steve released a small breath he has been holding.

The tape stopped, and then, kitchen could be seen. Loki was sitting down, looking as nonchalant as ever, while Darcy prepared breakfast. They talked, they ate, Darcy laughed.

It stopped again, showing the living room. Loki was lying on the sofa once again, sleeping.

The tape cracked.

Loki was advancing on Darcy, screaming at her. She screamed back, and Loki's face twisted in a snarl as he threw the small coffee table to the side, smashing it dangerously close to the camera. It continued filming, and Loki cornered Darcy - pressing her onto the wall, roaring down at her. So close to her terrified face and her shaking form.

Until the tape stopped again. It paused, cracking and to everyone it seemed the film was over.

'Is she-?' Tony's voice cracked a bit, as he gazed desperately from Coulson to the achromatic screen.

Coulson shook his head, and before Tony could say another thing, the entire room fell into an even deeper silence, because the film _continued_.

And now, the camera that filmed them shook and blurred. Still, _all of them_ could clearly see it...

Loki Laufeyson, the Norse god of mischief, the trickster, the lie smith and the biggest danger that ever threatened to fall upon Earth was engaged in a lip-lock with none other than Darcy Lewis.

He was clutching her body to his own, his hands were roaming her face, her neck, her back and he pressed her even closer, an image of a thirsty man finally finding the well from which he could drink.

The scene that came up after was even more blurry, and to everyone in the room, the footage resembled a filmed nightmare.

The glass was breaking, the bullets were grazing the front of the house, a silhouette of a SHIELD helicopter flew over them. Loki and Darcy ran out of the house, clutching hands, looking like a pair of lost lovers, a pair of troubled teenagers, desperate to run away, to hide…

To never come back.

There was another smaller explosion. And the film was over.

As soon as it finished, Coulson turned the screens back to their original backgrounds. Then he switched the light back on, and, as if nothing happened, as if the laboratory enveloped in darkness never became a grotesque cinema in which they saw the truth, they stood once more, facing each other, sharing the same blank stares.

'Four months ago, director Nick Fury ordered an attack onto the man he believed was responsible for the destruction of Puente Antiguo earlier that year. Darcy Lewis was seen helping a man SHIELD recognized as Loki. She refused to help. She was marked as an accomplice of the enemy of Midgard.'

Coulson paused, and bowed his head down when he felt the shocked faces burning into his skin. He swallowed, and loosening a knot of his tie, he removed it, for the first time in months taking a generous gulp of air, poisonous as it was.

'April 20th, exactly at midnight, Darcy Lewis was severely injured in the crossfire. And the enemy was not seen again until a few days ago.'

Silence.

The truth behind everything. The screaming proof of their enemies _true_ motivation. It now simmered slowly inside each and every one of them.

And at this moment, they could all laugh in triumph, cheer the knowledge they so easily acquired, the easy comprehension of Loki Laufeyson, the _bastard_ that killed eighty people in two days.

But they didn't. Nothing was funny anymore.

The fact one of the deadliest men that ever walked this Earth brought destruction not because of greed, not because of pure evil he was born with or unstoppable desire to control…

But because of _love_.

'_Jesus Christ!_' Tony voiced the first thing that crossed his mind, taking swift steps towards the Director.

Now the table were turned on the Director.

Steve's eyes were glazed over as he turned his head to the side. There was no strength inside him left to argue.

He simply stared at the floor, his blood boiling as he learned - everything he fought for, the very organization he worked for - nothing changed. It all remained the same. And nothing - not the blood of his friends, not his sacrifice, not Peggy - nothing could change the _true nature_ of this planet.

'Did you order this, Fury!?' For the first time that evening, Bruce yelled, pointing his finger at the Director, his purple shirt bearing dark marks of perspiration under his armpits.

Natasha took a few steps away form Fury, leaning back on the metal wall, her arms delicately folded in front of her as she glared at her superior.

'What the hell were you thinking!?' Tony burst out, unable to control himself 'I can't believe you gave that order while she was with him!'

'She refused to-'

'She was innocent!' Bruce yelled, threading his fingers through his mop of brown hair in nervousness.

'Banner, you don't know-' Fury growled

'People are dying because of your _arrogance_!' Now it was Steve's turn to shout. 'This planet is going to burn because _you thought you could play with feelings of a god!'_

Nick Fury gazed coldly at the group of people in front of him, burning each and every one of them with his death glare. But right now his gaze was concentrated onto a certain god of thunder whose reaction was _completely_ unexpected… utterly strange, even inappropriate.

Thor still hasn't moved from the shadow. There, he stood, his face shielded by his long hair, muscles in his arms twitching with every breath he took as he leaned onto them.

_'Hmm...' Loki still quivered from hatred, but his voice calmed down to a whisper 'We both know that while I am here, you will not speak about this. It would only be harmful and counterproductive for your... little group of heroes.'_

_'This little group of heroes will be your end, Loki.'_

_A raspy laugh escaped the god of mischief. 'No, Fury. Your insolence, betrayal and what you did to Darcy Lewis will drive you to your own. Bloody. End.'_

Tony and Steve looked at each other. Natasha gazed back at Bruce. Coulson met Thor's eyes.

Fury met the metal floor.

As if the devil himself finally caught up with his dark sins, Nick Fury felt it behind his back, whispering and chuckling.

In the matter of seconds, there was a deafening boom.

And everything went dark.

**AN: the poem on the beginning is from One Tree Hill. REVIEW ! :) :)**


	28. Chapter 28

**AN: My lovely lovely people... :) I'm sorry this took so long, but, you know, uni got in the way of Ink and Parchment as per usual! Long gone are the days of summer when I was able to update every two days... :') But I hope you'll enjoy this one. While I wrote it I listened to:**

**the cold rain that showered my city ;)**

**The Da Vinci Code - Daniels 9th Cipher**

**Dracula - 01 - The Beginning (AFTER LOKI ESCAPES!)**

**Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Marvel.**

* * *

Chapter 28

_Tears on the mausoleum floor_

_Blood stains the coliseum doors_

_Human beings in a mob__._

_What's a mob to a king?_

_What's a king to a god?_

_What's a god to a non-believer?_

* * *

The force of the burning explosion that hit the main laboratory sent everyone in the room flying through the air.

The blinding wave of fire lifted Natasha and Bruce, throwing them through a glass window and to the lower, darker deck of the flying ship.

Steve and Tony met the metal wall, dust showering them.

Thor was thrown onto the other side of the room, together with Nick Fury and Phil Coulson.

After a few moments, Stark and Rogers scrambled up, running mindlessly out of the dusty room, in search of their armor and shield.

The alarm screamed.

The large, black form of the Director sat up against the wall. He shook his head, trying to flush out the blurriness in front of his eyes. The very second his senses were more clear, he stumbled out of the closest exit, disappearing in the chaos of the large hall.

Coulson's head was bleeding, a large gash on his forehead dripping crimson all over his face, drenching his crisp white shirt.

Thor dragged himself on his elbows closer to Coulson. The god of thunder stretched his huge arm and slung it heavily onto Phil's shoulder.

'Son of Coul!' Thor shook him, trying to wake him up.

Phil muttered something, trying to fight the unconsciousness that gripped him, pulling him down.

'Son of Coul, listen!' Thor took a hold onto his head, prying open his eyes with his deep voice 'Fury ran away!'

That made Phil wake up, so he pushed himself to a sitting position, and leaned his sore head onto the comfortable cold metal wall.

'Let him go-' Coulson slurred as his eyes went in and out of focus. 'Barton has broken in-'

'Do you think he wants to-' Thor never finished, for his sentence was broken by a horrible roar.

Both men looked at each other for a second, and Thor observed as terror entered the pale eyes of agent Coulson.

'Banner!' Phil yelled. 'Thor you must – Only you can stop Banner – Fury is not important –'

Thor stood up, Mjölnir in his hand. But before he ran out of the room, Phil spoke over the screeching alarm, wiping his bleeding forehead with his sleeve.

'You knew.'

There was no need to explain, Thor knew what Coulson meant.

'_Yes_.'

Phil's eyebrows met in the middle of his sweaty brow, a completely desperate expression on his face. The knowledge that plagued him for months drained him of everything, and now, Phil only wanted to lie down, and for the first time in months – sleep. '_How_?'

Thor was silent, his face heavy as he gulped once, swallowing the lead cannonball of guilt. Phil noticed his fist tightening.

_'He could not do anything, Loki.' Thor placed his hammer onto the dry, cracked ground. A small bush swayed with the wind, touching Thor's leather boots._

_'Don't you dare-' Loki hissed sharply '-say another word.' His entire tall form was quivering, shaking, trembling with utter disbelief and madness. 'So...father thought leaving Darcy to die would be an apt punishment, a suitable scourge for my earlier sins?'_

'An Asgardian Prince never forgets who he is. He never stops wanting the throne he is promised. He is forever aware of the royal blood that runs through his veins, the sight of the throne he wishes to sit upon, the sound of the footsteps of his faithful servants, the smell of incense burned in his honor.'

'_B__oth of you were born to be kings.'_

'That desire drives him, and he will do anything, everything in his power to reach that throne he was promised long ago. That desire drives him to sin.'

Thor's voice quivered, but his face spoke only of anger and _deepest_ regret.

'The prince is haunted, and he _cannot_ hide from his punishment.'

Coulson stared at Thor, not fully comprehending. An alarm continued screaming. Thor said the next words with a heavy face, with a tone filled with agony, as if he was repeating them… as if they were never his own.

'He must _learn_ from his mistakes.'

…

The Hellicarrier swayed, metal groaning with the force of the impact. Flame burned the construction, debris falling into the misty abyss underneath the steel beast.

The Hawk has landed.

The sun was slowly laying down, announcing the death of the day and the rebirth of the night.

A streak of red twilight illuminated the sky, thrown over the cope of heaven like a smear of fresh paint, melting and dripping from the endless sky.

But none of its beautiful shine reached Loki.

He sat in the glass cell, eyes closed, back hunched.

Until he heard it.

_Oh, that long-awaited, liberating, stunningly violent roar of rage._

Loki lifted his head up, a delighted smile stretching his handsome face.

Immediately, a plan of cruel intentions spread out in front of his green eyes. Faces, places and objects.

The room was silent.

Slowly, the god of lies stood up, and threw his head back, taking a deep breath. He slowly ran his long fingers through his black locks – a small movement that turned in a habit since his fall on Midgard.

_Loki closed his eyes, breathing deeply as he relished the feel of the mortal woman's fingers on his scalp. Slowly, Darcy adjusted his tresses, mimicking Loki's constant movements, slicking his hair back, and then curving it at the ends. Darcy's breathing fell short when she touched his head, even more so when she felt him lean his head back and into her hands. When she was done, Darcy leaned down, and whispered by his ear 'Look.'_

_Darcy…_

It was terrible how a single though of her brought him such pain. How a brush of some foreign smell made him feel like he was nestled close to her white neck, showered by her soft brown hair.

Or in the late hours of the night… When he was all alone, when every smell and sound fell silent – he could feel her – whispering into his ear her witty, sweet nothings.

Oh, how these cruel shadows played with his heart, how these images of her ridiculed his mind.

She was his _chains_, wrapped tightly, digging into the delicate flesh of his frost-bitten heart.

_What am I without you?_

The sadness and agony, the loss of Darcy Lewis plagued him for months, and Loki found himself afraid.

Afraid he will start hating her. For perishing from his arms, his sight… for leaving him so abruptly.

_Valhalla, I knew you for but a few days. What kind of spell, what kind of dark sorcery have you bewitched me with?_

His happiness, his salvation, the only light he ever knew.

And now – his deepest agony.

Loki stood in the center of the round glass prison. He was completely still, and when he closed his eyes he could feel everything vibrating, shaking with the powerful steps and devastating blows of the Hulk, no doubt tearing the other side of the ship apart with his enormous green fists.

_They should have arrived by now._

His determined face was colder than ever as Loki paced his cell. The tips of his long fingers tingled with power. He _longed_ to take a hold of the scepter, he_ craved _to murder, to destroy.

The bubbling rage was unstoppable, and Loki languished for far too long on this damned ship.

_I have to get out._

_I have to set them free._

There was a loud clang on the entrance of the large room. Loki's head whipped to meet the possessed eyes of one of his minions. The man was all clad in black, and as he stepped inside, a large gun he held to his chest glinted in the pale light.

He quick nodded at Loki and walked to the control panel, clicking the button that opened up the thick glass doors of the round prison.

Loki looked around himself in boredom, and just as he was about to step outside – green eyes met the blue ones.

Thor stood on the entrance, on the other side of the room. And once he noticed the door sliding open he roared '_No!_'

The god of thunder ran with the speed of lightning towards Loki. A cunning little trick passed through Loki's mind.

He hunched his body, moving his arms to the side in a fight-stance, looking as if he will meet Thor's rushing strength.

Instead, he disappeared. When Thor lunged, all he was met with was blue and green mist.

Thor skidded across the hard ground and directly into the prison from which Loki escaped. Before he scrambled up, the door slid shut, trapping the blonde god inside.

_It was a warm afternoon on the shores of the Realm Eternal. Wind blew wildly, carrying the smell of the breaking ocean into the chamber of his majesty, Odin the Allfather. The room was empty, until…_

'_Give it back, Loki!' A small bl__onde boy yelled in anger as he chased his brother in their parents' room._

'_Give what back?' the other__ boy, a bit shorter than his older brother taunted playfully, holding behind his back the exact object his older brother wanted__._

'_Father's sword!' The bl__ond was slowly turning red __'I know you have it!'_

'_Well, you__'ve__ got that stupid hammer! I should have something, too!'_

'_Give it to me!' And the taller blonde boy lunged at his brother, trying to pry the sword from him, but he skidded across the floor, and to the base of their parent's golden bed._

_The black-haired boy reappeared on the other side of the room, laughing at his brother's annoyed face and flushed cheeks._

Instead of amusement and glee, annoyance and a faint streak of _disappointment_ graced the sharp face of the dark-haired trickster.

'Are you ever _not_ going to fall for that?'

Thor swung his hammer, hitting the glass cell with a roar. A crack, not different from the one Loki made with his fist hours ago welled up on the smooth surface.

The trickster stopped for a moment, waiting… It seemed the cage really was impenetrable.

Loki let out a raspy laugh, even more amused when he saw Thor's defeated face.

'The humans think _us_ immortal.' His step was light as Loki moved to the control board 'Shall we _test_ that?'

Thor stared at his brother, incredulity and sadness marking each line of his proud face. He shook his hammer inside his fist once, looking down to the floor.

'Brother…'

'Come now, Thor.' Loki commented lowly, _not looking_ at him, but studying the many buttons of the large dashboard. 'We've been through this many times before – I am _not_ your brother.'

'You are not yourself!'

'_Of course not._' Loki looked up, pulling his broad shoulders back, smiling slightly with his head cocked to the side 'I have not been myself for _months_.'

'Loki, this is _madness_!'

'Oh, you _do_ _love_ to repeat yourself, don't you?' Loki smiled maniacally.

His mouth opening and closing, the god of thunder stared at his wayward brother.

_When did it all went so terribly wrong?_

'Enjoy the _fall_.' Loki narrowed his eyes darkly. '_I know I did._'

'_No, Loki.__' _

_Freedom. Falling. Fear. Fury. These indescribable sensations pulsed through him. It seemed only second ago he held onto his father's staff._

Thor hung his head in desperation and final defeat. He saw there was no escape from this, no escape from what his younger brother was about to do.

Loki's long elegant fingers clicked the dangerous buttons of Midgardian technology. He smiled wickedly as the floor beneath the cell opened, and wind flew inside, whipping Loki's black hair around his neck and dark leather around his legs.

Thor took a deep breath, deciding it was worth a try 'This will not bring Darcy back.'

A smile fell from Loki's face as if someone wiped it with a rag. A vein of irritation and anger pulsed on his temple.

'Oh, no.' The lie-smith whispered slowly 'But it will make _me_ feel _so much better_.'

And before Thor could answer him, yell, plead, beg – he was dropped into the abyss, rushing towards the unforgiving ground of reality.

The trickster pressed his finger tightly on the large red button, not letting go until he was completely sure Thor was long gone, half-way falling into the cloudy embrace.

Then he let go, staring at the large, empty space where the prison used to rest.

Loki turned, walking in one direction, until he heard it…

'Hill!' the voice yelled over the alarm 'Hill, do you copy!?'

His wild green eyes whipped in the direction of the voice, and ever so gently, he sensed his scepter forming inside his large fist.

The tall, furious form of the god of mischief took quick, long steps towards the exit from which Thor ran in and from which this voice could be heard.

The moment Loki stepped outside, he saw him. And a rumbling maniacal laughter crawled from Loki's chest, so delighted and glad to see the Director… this time with nothing in between them.

'Going somewhere, Fury?' he cocked his head dangerously to the side.

Dark terror entered his one good eye, and the lie-smith could practically smell fear rolling from Fury's horror-stricken face.

After one second, Fury broke into a run. He sprinted in the different direction, as far away from the Norse god as he could. His black leather jacket blew behind him as he took large steps, running like devil himself chased him, gun gripped tightly in his hand.

Loki expected it.

And with a small smirk, he strolled after Fury, not bothering to run after him.

The form of the Director grew smaller. The tube-like, red, pulsing, screeching hallway swallowing him up.

Then he disappeared.

'You escaped Barton.' Narrowing his dark emerald eyes, Loki smiled 'But you will not escape me.'

...

Fury entered a smaller room. Darkness and coldness filled it, together with dozens of metal crates filled with Phase 2 weapon prototypes.

Fury pocketed his gun, and turned the heavy lid of one of the crates, taking a hold on one of the fire-spitting guns.

His face was sweaty, the burning scars that left him with only one eye felt painful, tight.

He breathed deeply, trying to calm his nerves.

Fury took one step towards the corner of the room, trying to get a better look on the entire place.

He hated it – the dark pipes, the humming floor, the shadows that played on the walls, the metal echo.

His very breathing was too loud. His heart-beat seemed to make too much noise.

Fury aimed the enormous weapon in front of himself, fire slowly simmering in the tip of the long barrel like molten lava.

'_Come on, come on, you bastard._' Fury whispered under his breath, his dark eye frantically moving from one spot to another '_Come out, I know you're here._'

A small ting of metal hitting metal made Fury jump and turn around. The noise came from behind him.

There was something moving in shadows of the corner. Fury stepped towards it, tense and twitchy.

And as the tip of the weapon prototype lighted up the dark corner, Fury saw it.

Lying there, forgotten and coated in light sheen of blood, was his own black leather eye-patch.

Fury's one dark eye widened.

His shaking long fingers moved towards his head and he felt his face. Streaming down his left cheek, dripping from his chin… blood. And no eye-patch.

The weapon fell from his arms.

A scream was torn in two, broken inside Nick Fury's own throat as he felt an insane pain entering his back. It dug, deeper than anything before, cold metal… sharp as a razor. It dug slowly, as it the person who did it relished each second of the macabre act.

'_What_-' his good eye was wide and bulging as he choked.

And just as he thought his end couldn't be more gruesome, he heard it.

_The devil whispering in his right ear._

'_This_ is real power, Fury.' The low voice shook as it spoke 'To see your enemy _die_ before your eyes.'

'No-' Fury choked again, his voice strained and on the verge of breaking.

'Yes.' Loki twisted the scepter, making Fury twitch in pain as me mangled his insides.

'_No_-'

'_Yes_.' And placing his one hand onto Fury's shoulder, the god of lies ruthlessly pulled the scepter out.

'Look at me.' Blood dripped down, creating a puddle between Fury's legs.

The lie-smith let go of him, and Fury fell to his knees, holding his stomach as blood dripped out of his mouth, in between his dark fingers and down his legs.

'_I want you to look at me when I kill you._' Loki walked around his dying form, swinging his blood-drenched scepter.

Loki then crouched in front of Fury, leaning closer to him as he dug his pale fingers inside his black pocket. The entire time, green fire burned into Fury's wide eye.

'Tell me, Director…' Once Loki's fingertips met the cold chain, he pulled it out of Fury's pocket, and dangled it on his forefinger.

'Are you ready to meet the fire?'

Before Fury could answer him, Loki angled the sharp tip of the scepter in his white knuckled fist, and swung.

Like knife through butter, his blade sliced through Fury's throat, and he fell, a heap of black leather and color red – a blood-curdling, hair-rising sight for anyone unfortunate enough to find him.

Releasing a ragged breath, Loki stood up, and wiped the blade onto the lining of Fury's coat.

His face jumped between excitement and agony.

Then he turned from the dead body, and rested the scepter on one of the crates.

Dragging the white-gold chain between his cold fingers, Loki's eyebrows met in the middle. He gripped it tightly, then brought it closer to his mouth.

Cold lips pressed a deep kiss onto the small crystal snake. His green eyes closing.

A small tear pushed its way out of trickster's closed eye, falling down his deathly pale cheek.

Loki stood like that for a few moments, the repulsive, coppery scent of spilled blood entering his nostrils.

Loki opened his eyes, pressing his lips in a tight line. His pupils dilated.

He shifted the necklace, and placed it around his neck, showing it underneath the many layers of his armor, feeling its comfortable coldness on his bare skin.

With a last glance on Fury's dead body, Loki exited the room.

_Tears on the mausoleum floor_

_Blood stains the coliseum doors_

**AN: Please review! The song from the beginning is Kanye West & Jay Z (Ft. Frank Ocean) - No Church in the Wild.**


	29. Chapter 29

**AN: My darlings... I hope you'll enjoy this one! :) Thank you for your continuous support and encouragment - it means more than anything to me! While I wrote it I listened to: **

**Am I Not Merciful? - Gladiator soundtrack **

**Diclaimer: Everything belongs to Marvel.**

* * *

_Chapter 29_

_Oh, Death _

_Won't you spare me over til' another year? _

_But what is this, that I can't see, _

_With ice cold hands taking hold of me? _

_When God is gone and the Devil takes hold, _

_Who will have mercy on your soul? _

_Oh, Death._

_No wealth, no ruin, no silver, no gold,_

_Nothing satisfies me but your soul._

_Well I am Death, none can excel,_

_I'll open the door to heaven or hell._

_Oh, Death._

_My name is Death and the end ïs here..._

* * *

Night fell. The fire was quenched and the Hellicarrier continued its flight.

The alarm stopped screaming.

Banner fell behind, lying somewhere in dust, unconscious and still, in the middle of a dirty rubble.

Thor was dropped. Miles separated him from the flying ship. The god of thunder, however, was on his feet, walking swiftly through the shadowy moor, with a hammer in his fist, and an evil foreboding in his chest.

Natasha sat on the steel platform, cradling her bruised shoulder as SHIELD agents dragged an unconscious Clint to his room. She observed as his relaxed feet trailed across the cold platform, pulled by two men. Her fiery red locks were stuck onto her wet cheeks. Tiredness rimmed her steely gaze, and she clenched her jaw, releasing a ragged breath.

_He is safe. I wiped it out. I wiped it out._

A dagger Barton wanted to kill her with was lying next to Natasha, shining.

_Cognitive recalibration._

The momentary tranquility and silence on the flying ship was broken. Natasha jumped when she heard it - a short scream. But a scream of such terror and shock, it shook the metal platform on which she sat.

On the other side of the ship, Maria Hill was leaning onto the door in fear, her entire form trembling. Horror filled her, together with the smell of blood and the sight of the mangled centre in Nick Fury's torso. One open eye gazed desperately into her face, limbs positioned in awkward angles. And no eye-patch, revealing a scarred bump of dark flesh, and nothing more.

_Hill, do you copy!?_

Steve and Tony sat in silence of the main room. Rogers lowered his heavy head into his scratched palms, every muscle in his body hurting from all the fighting, jumping, running. Tony closed his dark eyes, leaning back onto the chair. No one moved, no one spoke.

Not even Coulson. He stood by the door, observing the two avengers.

One of them was his role-model, the person he grew up admiring, the very man he wanted to become one day. The one who protected him, without knowing it. Captain protected him from the violent drunk that called himself his father, he protected him from all his fear. He gave him courage.

Even though Phil felt a ton lifting from his shoulders, he was aware the war was just starting.

As for the other man, Phil considered him a friend. Tony Stark's eccentric personality was something Coulson… _liked_. And after the confession about Darcy Lewis, it was Tony Stark's reaction Phil was most surprised to see. He was angry, disgusted, and Phil feared Stark will turn against him, _for who in his right mind could carry out such an order_?

However, Tony _never_ even looked at Phil in anger. It was like he knew… It was like Tony understood Phil had no other choice but to do as he was told.

And Coulson regretted every single second of his blind obedience.

Capturing the beast was wrong, it seemed. The beast escaped, even angrier than before.

_A beast, Phil? Are you sure he is the one who is a monster in this story?_

Phil had no idea. This was not a typical scenario. One could not apply logic in this tale. Why? Because if one was unable to discern a villain from a hero… one could not expect anything, one could not predict what will happen next.

And it ate Phil on the inside. The uncertainty of their situation, the fact he had no idea how all of this will end.

…

'Magnus, can you _please_ come upstairs, the computer is blocking again?' Jane stood on the top of the wooden stairs in the house on the edge of Tromsø. Her Norwegian colleague went downstairs to brew them both a cup of tea. The snow was falling rapidly, sweeping across the town.

'There is no gas, Jane!' Magnus yelled from the kitchen in a slightly broken English 'I'm going out. I won't be long!'

'Oh, _forget_ about the tea, you have to help me with this computer!' Jane huffed and stomped her foot on the parquet floor 'I have _no_ _idea_ how to restart it without loosing everything I wrote today!'

'I'm sure you can find something to do for a few minutes.' Magnus leaned onto the dark wood railing on the bottom of the spiral stairs. His bright, round face looked up at Jane, smiling. 'Tea or spiced wine?'

Jane sighed, smiling back tiredly gently at her new friend. 'Tea.'

And with that Magnus threw on his thick, warm jacket and walked to the door, disappearing from Jane's sight. She leaned her forearms onto the railing, her silky hair framing her pale face as she looked down.

An icy light moved on the ground floor as Magnus stepped to the threshold. Wind burst inside when he opened the heavy door, sweeping small snowflakes over the dark wood.

Jane was alone, shivering, with no one but sneaky wind keeping her company. Straightening up with another sigh, Jane took two stairs at the time, returning to her study on the third floor. Her pink bunny slippers dragged lazily against the floor. She wore warm sweatpants, a long sleeved t shirt and a knitted cardigan.

Norway was cold. Cold, cold, cold. And Jane missed America. She missed the people, the sun, the desert. She missed Thor. She even missed Erik who went to the US when SHIELD called a few weeks back. And he still hasn't called her.

Jane's stomach clenched in worry when she checked her phone that afternoon. She checked it for the millionth time since he left.

_Nothing_. No messages, no calls, no e-mails.

It was all very suspicious.

Before she walked into her study, she slipped into the bathroom. Standing in front of the mirror, Jane dragged her fingers through her honey brown hair, sweeping it up and lifting it into a pony tail. Then she turned the faucet on and splashed warm water onto her frost bitten face, trying to soothe the sensitive skin. She observed her own reflection for a few moments. Then she switched the light off and continued the journey to her study.

The low chanting of the Northern wind brushed against the house. The warm, yellow light and polished wood of the house's interior was enveloped in a mysterious atmosphere. Jane once again wished Magnus stayed with her.

Just before her pink clad foot stepped inside her study, Jane hesitated. Every nerve clenched inside her body as she felt the familiar sensation of gripping, unexplained anxiousness filling her. It happened to her before, when she was a young girl - she would stand on one side of the narrow corridor, or was looking into a room filled with darkness - and Jane always thought something was moving in the shadow, always lurking behind a door or under the bed, waiting to grab her ankle just before she jumped into her warm bed and wrapped herself in the protective embrace of the soft blanket.

_Oh don't be a child! _Jane scoffed at her own silly fears as she once again felt them gripping her bones.

_'You are ungrateful.' Darcy said to the door, tears collecting under her glasses._

_'Oh grow up, Darcy...' Said Jane._

_'You call me childish but, here I am, talking to closed doors!' Darcy said loudly enough for Jane to hear her. _

It was not only Erik Jane missed. Often, she thought about Darcy. But she refused to call her. Stubborn and proud - that's exactly what Jane Foster was. And nothing, not this trip to the freezing top of Europe's iceberg, not months that separated her from the last moment she spoke to Darcy, not the nostalgia she felt every time she heard a song that Darcy constantly replayed during their evenings in Puente Antiguo… nothing could make her yield into her urge to call Darcy and be the first one to apologize. She simply refused.

_The fight was not only my fault! If Darcy was less selfish, she would understand Erik and I had no choice but to do as SHIELD said! We didn't send ourselves to Norway! This project means a lot not only for SHIELD, but for mankind! Darcy should be old enough to understand she is NOT the centre of the universe! She needs to stop acting like a child and grow up!_

Jane leaned on the side of the door, _still_ not walking into her study.

_And you are still afraid of the dark, Jane._ The voice inside her head whispered back.

Closing her auburn eyes with a slow sigh, Jane stepped into the room, immediately flicking the lights on.

The room was average size, with warm wooden floors and expensive thick white curtains. The furniture was new and modern. There was a plush sofa, a TV set, a work desk, a chair and a laptop she left on. On the left side, just next to the entrance of the room, were shelves - with piles of books on astronomy, physics, mathematics and much more.

Jane sat in her chair. She tried clicking a few buttons, but nothing happened, so she closed her laptop in frustration. There was not much use in trying anything until Magnus arrived. Leaning against the backrest, Jane observed the framed picture in the corner of the desktop.

Poking underneath the mess of papers and pens - a fond memory. The picture showed Erik, Darcy and Jane herself on the Thinking Roof in Puente Antiguo. The sun was shining, the air was crisp and all three of them were smiling brightly at the person who took the picture.

It was summertime. And back then Thor was a mystery, SHIELD had nothing to do with the small town in New Mexico, there were no threats, no destruction… No fear. Just _science_ and _friendship_.

Jane stretched her arm and took hold of the minimalistic silver frame. She and Darcy had their arms around each other, and they both burst out laughing at the joke Erik was telling. The picture was taken in that perfect second, trapping the magnificent moment for all eternity.

Jane regarded the picture with a cold expression, refusing to let out that breath of longing that shook her chest. That needy tremor inside her soul one felt while looking at a distant memory or upon hearing a familiar tune.

She placed the frame back on the desk, and rose from her seat.

'That time is gone.' Jane murmured to herself. Swiftly, she closed the numerous books on her table, picking them up and placing them into her arms. The hardcovers dug into her forearms with the heavy weight of the thick books, but she didn't care. She needed to engage herself in some trivial work, just to clear her head. Quickly, she moved to the shelves, arranging the heavy volumes, returning them to their rightful places.

An old book fell from the top shelf when Jane accidentally pulled it out to make room for a bigger one. Dust flew around her, and she almost sneezed when the fine silver dust entered her nostrils. Brushing her irritated eyes onto her sleeve, she crouched down to pick the lost book. The pages on which it fell were yellow and dry, but the text was in English.

Her brow furrowed in concentration as Jane turned the book inside her hand to read the golden title upon the old cover:_ Poetic Edda, Völuspá_

Curiosity surged inside Jane and she flipped back the book and gazed upon the pages that the fall from the top shelf crumpled.

It read... _Ragnarök - The end of gods. _

Jane shifted on her spot, uneasiness filling her when she read the title. Still, she brought the page closer to her face and read.

_Thor alone fighted, swolen with anger - _

_Seldom he stays quiet when of such he hears - _

_Forgotten the promises, broken oaths and vows, _

_Solemn agreements sworn between them._

_._

Did Thor remember the moment he vowed he would return to Jane?

_I will return..._

.

_Outside she sat by herself when you came, _

_Terror of the gods, and gazed in her eyes. _

_What do you ask of me? Why taunt me? _

_Odin, I know where your eye is hidden, _

_Hidden away in the well of Mimir. _

_Mimir each morning his mead drinks mead in Valföðr's pledge. _

_Well would you know more?_

_._

_Brother shall strike brother and both fall, _

_Parents shall defile their kin; _

_Evil be on earth, an age of adultery, _

_Axe time, sword time, _

_Of split shields, _

_A wind-age, a wolf-age till the world caves in; _

_No man shall show mercy to another._

_._

_I see one in bonds by the grove of boiling springs; _

_A sly-looking shape, like Loki he looks; _

_There Sigyn sits by her husband, _

_Even though she does not rejoice in what happens to him. _

_Well would you know more?_

_._

_Comes flying a dark dragon, _

_shining serpent, coming down from Nidafjöll; _

_He bears on his feathers - hovering over the plain - corpses, Nidhöggr. _

_Now she will make herself scarce._

_._

After a few moments, Jane lifted her scared eyes from the eerily silent page, the words she just read still sinking in. The ancient text, translated and interpreted by so many during the long centuries now gave a whispered warning. Was it because Jane Foster was currently in Norway that this text blew pinching shivers on the nape of her neck? Was it the fact Erik Selvig hasn't called? Or was it simply because Magnus went out, leaving her alone in the silent house, with this creepy book and this frightening song?

If she were in America, reading this exact text with no one around, would she feel the same uneasiness? Probably not. Here on the old Norse ground where these very words were probably spoken and feared, she felt naked. The watchful eye of Heimdall, the guard Thor told her about, seemed so much closer here in Scandinavia.

Blood surged inside the rational part of Jane's brain, making her realize there was neither time nor reason for her silly trepidation.

'_Please_-' Jane scoffed to herself, throwing it back on the top shelf 'It's just a book.'

'As much as I _loathe_ the sheer lack of knowledge encountered at Midgardian writers…' Someone spoke '…I must tell you not _everything_ inside that book is false.'

Like cat splashed with freezing water, Jane jumped out of her own skin, giving a small scream of fright when someone spoke behind her. She turned.

Sitting there inside her chair was a man - legs propped on the desktop, polished black dress shoes crossed. His hair was black and slicked back, and he was wearing a black suit with a long dark coat. There was a nonchalant expression on his pale face, the sharp lines of his face, the elegant nose and proud forehead giving the man quite a noble look.

But there was something sinister about his set jaw and broad shoulders, something unspoken and dark inside his green eyes.

He was yet to lift his gaze to Jane. The stranger held something in his hands, studying and slowly scrutinizing it. A silver frame glinted in the light and Jane realized he held the picture of Erik, Darcy and herself.

'W-who are you? How did you get in?' Jane's voice fluttered as she held onto the thick wooden frame of the heavy shelves, her ponytail dragging across the dusty book spines.

The man tisked, frustration playing with his expression 'Is this _truly_ _all_ you Midgardians can think of saying when you see me?' _How did I get in?_' The man sighed.

'M-Midgardians?' Jane stuttered, confusion and outrage on her face 'Who are you? What do you want?'

The man ignored her.

'Are you enjoying your time here in Norway, Miss Foster?' The man shifted the frame, and cocked his head to the side to better observe something in the picture.

'How do you know my name?'

The man still didn't look up, and Jane took it as a chance to slowly move towards the door.

But her step was halted.

'If you so much as _glance_ towards that door, if you so much as _think_ of running away…' Sharpness was piercing his every word, a slight snarl creeping behind the last syllable. Then he looked up. '… I will become very, _very_ angry.'

Green fire burned in his deep eyes, and Jane felt breath catching inside her throat in panic when he pressed his lips in a thin line, observing her like a predator.

'Now, answer my question, Miss Foster.'

'Who the hell do you think you are!' Jane exclaimed, her face red in rage 'Get out!'

The side of the man's thin mouth lifted in a knowing smirk, and he slowly stood up to his full, frightening height 'I see why Thor chose you.'

'_Thor_? H-How do you know-' Jane mouthed, her eyes wide and filled with terror 'Who _are_ you?'

The man cocked his head to the side, and he buttoned his black suit jacket '_Brother shall strike brother and both fall, Parents shall defile their kin?' _Loki asked, moving around the work-desk_, _his deep voice filling the room _'I see one in bonds by the grove of boiling springs; A sly-looking shape, like _Loki_ he looks' _A mad smile played with his mouth.

'_Loki_?' Jane spoke slowly, trying out the strange name of Thor's brother, the one he told her about just before he left Earth, the one she feared was the very reason Thor _didn't_ keep his promise.

'_Pleasure_.' Loki bowed his head a bit, his expression cold. 'Care to answer my question?'

There was a small pause filled with Jane's uneven breathing.

'You asked me whether I enjoyed my time in Norway.' Jane said stiffly, her voice laced with spite, her hands trembling a bit.

Loki simply nodded, his ink black tresses shaking around his elegant neck as he moved towards the window. He parted the white curtains and observed the blue snow storm that second by second buried the small northern town.

Jane found herself afraid, and there was not enough courage inside her to disobey him. 'No, actually, I don't. It's cold and far too silent for my liking.'

'Then _why_ did you come here?' His back was turned to her, and despite his clear warning, Jane stepped towards the door. He was, after all, behind the desk, on the other side of the room.

'I didn't come here because I _wanted_ to. SHIELD sent me.'

Loki's malevolent laughter rumbled deeply 'Be careful who you're lying to, Miss Foster.'

'I'm not-'

'_Yes, you are_.' He interrupted her, turning slowly and watching her over his black-clad shoulder 'You left because _you_ _wanted_ to.'

_What does he want? Why does it matter?_

Jane was unable to reply to that, she saw no escape from what he said because it was, indeed, true.

She left because she wanted to.

'Why are you here?'

Loki smiled, looking to the floor, taking slow steps back and forth, pacing like a dark shadow. 'Didn't you read the text?'

'That text is fiction. Written a long time ago.'

'You sound very sure.' Loki leaned on the table, propping his upper body with his long arms. 'Isn't that a bit foolish? After all, a god fell into your embrace this year. And even with the knowledge a higher realm exists, you deny the verity of _Völuspá?'_

Jane was silent, glaring daggers at the man opposite her.

_'_I am truly amazed, Miss Foster._'_

_'_You still didn't answer my question, _Loki_.'

Loki observed Jane with narrowed eyes. The lie-smith once again took the framed picture. Before Jane knew what he was doing, the god of mischief slammed the frame onto the side of the desk. Glass showered the floor, sharp bits flying everywhere and Jane cringed at the hair-rising noise. Loki dipped his fingers into the broken glass, taking hold of the picture, but nothing could cut through his skin.

'I am here, Miss Foster, to bring _Ragnarök.' _He whispered silkily, tearing the picture in half and pocketing one ripped part inside his black coat pocket.

_This is it._

The decision was brought in the pin-dropping silence - Jane would run.

Adrenaline surged inside Jane and she broke into a sprint. The moment she bolted out of the study, she felt sobs bubbling up inside her throat… panic and fear. Fear for her life.

She swore she heard him growl and soon she felt his long footsteps behind her. Jane cried out in desperation as she practically flew down the stairs.

'Magnus!' She screamed on the top of her lungs, hoping he was near, hoping someone could hear her. 'Please!'

By now, Jane nearly reached the ground floor, and just as she was about to grab onto the railway and run faster, a cold arm wrapped itself around her upper arm, yanking her back against the man's chest.

A cruel, raspy laughter played by her right ear, her arms locked behind her by two stronger hands, and she quivered in pain and fright, feeling like she will faint at any second.

'It's nothing personal, _Jane_.' Loki said, and she felt him smiling. Insanity lacked each word.

Before she could reply, Jane Foster's entire world dissolved into darkness. She fell limp inside Loki's grip.

Outside, above them, Aurora Borealis marked the darkening sky, undulating and pulsing.

Two elegant horns of the Northern light shined an emerald green.

The sky carried a message, a promise, a pledge - the gods will fall.

**AN: The song from the beginning is Jen titus - Oh Death. PLEASE REVIEW !**


	30. Chapter 30

**AN: Lovelies! I am so sorry for the wait but I'm quite busy with uni! And here I give you - CHAPTER THIRTY ! I can't believe 'Ink and Parchment' reached the 30 chapter mark - OMG CHAMPAGNE FOR EVERYONE! Oh, but there is so much more to come, my darlings, I hope you'll stick with my little adventure ;)**

**One more thing - THANK YOU to everyone that reviewed! I think the last chapter was the most reviewed chapter in this story! THANK YOU SO MUCH! I LOVE YOU ALL!**

**While I wrote this I listened to: Science and Religion - 06 - Angels & Demons Soundtrack**

**Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Marvel.**

* * *

Chapter 30

_And there's no remedy for memory,  
Your face is like a melody,  
It won't leave my head.  
Every time I close my eyes,  
It's like a dark paradise.  
No one compares to you,  
I'm scared that you won't be waiting on the other side._

* * *

_The noise is deafening, pushing painfully against my ears. Water, endless – tumbling, rushing, screaming._

_Wind blows my tired face as I wake up in the last place I want to be._

_Something returned me back to my past. _

_Or was it the future? _

_Above me – stars, around me – ocean. I am standing on the rainbow bridge. _

_My hands are pale, my lips are dry, my face frozen, but I cannot shiver, for inside I _am_ ice._

_And I feel bare, naked, even though I am wearing my armor. My head is frighteningly empty, devout of all emotion, devout of opinion, of thought. Magic is ripped from inside me, floor ripped from beneath me and I stumble._

_Odin, why am I here? Valhalla, has all of this been a dream?_

_But then I see it. And just like the Asgardian ocean spiraling over the cliff and into the abyss of the cosmos, everything rushes back to me._

_On the tip of the sharp edge in front of me, sitting on the end of the broken Bifröst – I see her._

_Darcy?_

_Something inside me is pulling my body towards her. I feel tendrils of magic hooking around my ribs, around my spine, around my frozen lungs – drawing me nearer._

_Gravity is playing with me, I try not to loose my balance and I walk in her direction._

_She is sitting, legs dangling dangerously over the edge, nothing beneath them._

_'__Dragonborn, Dragonborn by his honor is sworn, To keep evil forever at bay…__Hearken now, sons of snow, to an age, long ago and the tale, boldly told, of the one…'_

_She is singing._

_I know I have heard this song before. Frigga sang it to me, my mother sang it to me, and _only_ me. I know I listened to Darcy singing it. I remember her back was turned to me, so all that I saw was her hair. I saw those soft, dark tresses. How I long to touch them again..._

_I feel the urge to call her, to say her name. But I can't. Something takes hold of my throat with an iron fist and I cannot utter a single word._

_And so I take a step forwards. But it is halted immediately._

_She is holding something in her hands. A small bundle, wrapped in soft sheets. _

_Darcy is holding a child._

_The child is sleeping, but I cannot see her face. I cannot see Darcy's face. Her hair is hiding her from me. Those soft, dark tresses. _

_She continues rocking the child in her arms, singing the song gently, the nearly whispered notes making my heart clench._

_The child's eyes open. And even with the noise of the breaking ocean, and the soft lullaby sang by her, I can hear the cracking of the dark fire._

_The warm jewels light up in the child's gaze and I cannot move. I cannot breathe, for I gaze up in _Darcy's_ eyes, encrusted like diamonds in the small, perfect shaped head of the calm child. They possess the intelligence and wit, the shine and the clearness of her own eyes. Even stars are reflected inside those crystal mirrors. _

_Her child. Darcy's child._

_But then I see something, something that nearly brings me to my knees. Already, I am an eternal servant to this vision I feel forming in front of me..._

_Only ink, raven's wings, the darkest coal and the deepest shadow can describe how black the child's hair is._

_My fingers shakily thread through my own locks and I grip them shakily._

_Her eyes and my hair. _

_Inside another being?_

_'Darcy?' Finally I manage to utter her name, to choke it out, to whisper it. _

_Her singing stops._

_And she turns._

...

As though a lightning hit him square in his bare chest, Loki bolted out of the cold bed, out of the cruel nightmare, and into the even crueler reality.

He didn't even let himself to catch his breath, and already he tore the sweat soaked sheets from his body with a loud, frustrated growl and stood up, trembling as he went.

His breathing was ragged and loud, the chilling air of the abandoned building creeping into each empty corner of the high, unfinished skyscraper in the center of the New York city.

The night was dark, and on this height, even the never-sleeping city was silent.

The god of lies paced, his feet bare, soundless against the concrete floor. He was alone. Wind burst through the unclosed holes made for the windows that were never embedded, like locks missing their keys.

Except for three thick concrete blocks placed one on top of the other and the bed he conjured himself, there was nothing else in the large, empty, cold room.

Loki Laufeyson drew his shaking hand through his damp hair, mimicking his movements from his nightmare. The madness that swirled inside his irises threatened to consume him. As always, he felt the deviant urge to laugh to himself as disbelief filled him, the shock of the situation - him waking up from a nightmare like this, at this hour, with the damned lullaby still echoing inside his head.

_Is losing Darcy not enough? Is my punishment not sufficient enough?_

That even his head turned against him, cooking up poison, adding inside his anger, pain, his deepest desires and unfulfilled dreams – spilling the cauldron inside him, not letting him a moment of peace.

As he walked to the nearest unfinished window, Loki threw his head back, gripping it in his hands. The god of lies doubled over in pain, scratching at his chest as he felt every end of each black nerve blossoming inside.

_Get out, get out, get out._

The mantra went on inside him, and _finally_, he felt it all dimming.

Once more, he turned and paced. Back and forth, back and forth until he sensed his agony lifting bit by bit. Then he went to the three thick concrete blocks, and hunching his bare, glistening upper body, leaned onto them.

Loki screwed his eyes shut, forehead wrinkling in passionate emotion as beads of perspiration fell down his temples. He leaned on his arms, pale chest heaving as he breathed. In and out. In and out. His knuckles were white as bones when he gripped the edge of the adamant surface, wishing to break it in two.

When the lie-smith opened his eyes, the swirling rage was not removed. Dancing with it was despair. Twirling, twisting, jumping – like a danse macabre.

He dipped his head between his shoulders, and gazed upon the items placed on the concrete block.

The Bifröst necklace shined in the dark. The many pulsing colors illuminated a picture. It was ripped on one side, cutting the rest of the people from it.

Darcy gazed unblinkingly, trapped inside the distant moment. A wide smile stretched her face as wind whipped her dark hair. The picture sealed them in place, each lock creating a halo around her round face.

She was happy in the picture - true content and carelessness nearly dripping from the edge of the photograph.

The nightmare, short as it was, shook him to his very core, and Loki didn't know how to shut Darcy's face away from his mind. As much as he wanted to, he could never do that. Never.

The god of mischief leaned on his elbows, only a breath separating his face from the picture.

His face was expressionless, there was no tears – just silence. And before he could stop himself, Loki traced Darcy's smiling face with his forefinger, gently stroking the ripped picture.

The complete momentary absence of sorrow was frightening, especially when it was replaced with black hatred.

…

The gentle hum of computers woke Jane Foster up from her state of unconsciousness.

_Where am I?_

Jane was lying face down on the cold concrete floor. The first thing she noticed when she woke up was coldness. Indescribable, painful, freezing coldness. Her head was hurting, her knuckles were bloody and when she tried to roll on her back a sharp pain pierced through her muscles, her legs and arms hurting.

She moaned as she turned, unable to open her eyes. In between opening and closing of her heavy lids, Jane saw blue lights. But they were soft and distant, while everything else lay in the shadow.

A voice reached her ears, and the moment she heard it, she forced herself to sit up, leaning against the floor. Only then, Jane noticed she was in the back of a large room, and judging by the whispering wind and relative silence, she was in an abandoned building.

_But where?_

One look out of the hole in the wall, so dangerously close to where she was sitting, was enough to answer her question.

Rising up so proudly, so elegantly and mightily, lighting up the too-familiar skyline was the Empire State Building.

_New York!? Impossible!_

Panic welled up inside Jane as she realized the last time she was awake – she was on the other side of the globe - in Norway!

_What happened to me? I was waiting for Magnus…_

Jane rubbed her face with her palms.

_I was waiting for Magnus to bring me tea. My computer was broken, book, poem, Ragnarök…_

Breath caught inside her throat… _Loki!_

Jane turned her head in despair to the hole in the wall, the edge so frighteningly close as wind pushed inside the hollow rooms, but she didn't care. She would rather jump from the skyscraper, than feel his frozen hands on her again. As though he still held her, she felt his grip on her upper arm, bruising her flesh in his vice-like grip.

The big city was restless. The morning was shyly creeping behind the horizon and was yet to bathe the world in its bright glory.

Once again, the voice returned, coming from the other end of the room, and this time it was frighteningly familiar.

Three times Jane Foster blinked, clearing her sleepy vision. The fourth time, it was completely clear, and only one glance was enough to see the familiar profile and even more familiar gesticulation.

She solved the puzzle. And Jane realized, with tears of relief forming in the corners of her eyes – it was Erik. And he was talking to someone.

Before she could think about it, she scrambled up and with laughter nearly bubbling up her throat, she ran towards the figure shielded by the plastic curtain, standing inside a makeshift lab, with the same beam of cyanic light glowing next to him.

Her tangled hair fell from her ponytail, dusty and unwashed. Her clothes were dirty and wet at a few places, her knitted cardigan torn in a few places.

'Erik!' Jane ran the distance, yelling as she hurried to the other end of the vast room '_Erik_!'

She could see the person Erik was talking to turning in her direction, nudging Erik to look.

Without thinking, Jane tore the curtains that separated her from her friend. The moment Jane met Erik's face – she knew something was strange, but she ignored the little voice that told her to move away.

'Erik…' Jane breathed with an overwhelmed smile, jumping up and hugging her friend tightly. 'I was so worried!'

Erik's arms never moved to hug her back, and they hung by his sides. Jane stood still, and slowly, she removed her arms from around him, her lips pressing in a thin line when he rejected her embrace.

The man she thought was her old friend only stared at her. And then, Jane noticed the eyes. Unnatural, unblinking, distorted and so artificially blue. His face was unshaven, and the usually firm, unique lines of his face were hanging, unused, as though every single emotion was sucked right out of him.

'Erik-' Her voice fluttered as her petite form started shaking from shock 'Erik! Look at me!' Now she grasped his bearded face inside her cold palms, shaking him.

'Say something, damn it!' She pleaded.

Nothing came out of his mouth. Only then did Jane notice the odor that enveloped his unwashed clothes and the unkempt graying hair.

The monitor behind Erik gave a soft _bleep_, drawing Jane's attention. The blue Cube glowed in the middle of a smaller steel construction, the man Erik talked to clicking something on the computer. His eyes were glowing too.

'What happened to you, Erik?' Jane managed to whisper with parted lips as she watched the scene in shock.

'_He found peace_.' The deep voice made Jane jump in surprise as she turned.

Loki stood on the entrance to the improvised lab, holding the plastic curtain up with his arm, smirk in place. His outfit changed, Jane noticed – no trace left of the elegant black suit. Now, his body was tightly hugged by various pieces of black and green armor that made him appear even more daunting.

With twisted satisfaction, the god of lies watched as Jane face changed, the emotions flickering on her tear stained visage. Breathing deeply, Jane twisted her fists tightly by her side, before finally breaking and screaming '_What did you do to him_!?'

Loki took a step back still smiling, still holding the curtain with his armor clad arm, looking at Jane with narrowed eyes until he turned his head and gazed in Erik's face.

Immediately, Erik moved from Jane's side and continued working like there was nothing happening. Jane looked over her shoulder at her oldest friend, her throat shaking with barely suppressed sobs.

Erik was the smartest, kindest, most independent man Jane ever met, and to see him like this – reduced to a puppet, a relaxed marionette, swinging from the belt of its master, held by thin strings.

'Why? W-Why would you do this to us?' She turned and glared at Loki, rage mixing with horror 'What has he ever done to you? What did all of us _ever done_ to you!?'

Jane was hysterical now, yelling on the top of her lungs, gripping her shirt on her sides, biting in the inside of her mouth, doing everything to stop herself from physically attacking Loki. Fear held her back.

'I already told you, Miss Foster. I am here to bring the end.' A smile fell from Loki's face 'Heed these words, and do not repeat your questions so brashly…' he angled the sharp edge of the scepter in his arm, inspecting the razor tip '…for I just might _cut out_ your tongue.'

When the threat left the god of lies, anger welled up inside Jane – faster and stronger than ever, and she lunged at Loki, spitting profanities. Before Jane could lash out at him and scratch his face with her fingernails, Loki caught her. His fist wrapped like a snake around her think neck, immediately silencing her.

Then he drew her nearer.

'You forget yourself, Miss Foster.' Loki murmured, gazing up indifferently down at her small form as he suddenly got the urge to squeeze just a little bit tighter. Jane's breathing fell short, as she looked with fear up at the man.

'One more outburst like this one and…' He smiled, and if he wasn't threatening to strangle her, Jane would maybe find it charming '…I will not hesitate to break that pretty little neck of yours.'

Jane was shaking with anger, not believing the amount of courage that led her to even attempt an attack. Fear and anger collided inside her, one side telling her to step back and do as he was told, and the other telling her to disobey him – no reason, just spite.

'Understood?'

Feeling like the very devil was poking her with his pitchfork just below her shoulder blade, Jane managed to swallow and nod.

Mild satisfaction broke over his visage and Loki released her. Jane stumbled back, her hand coming to soothe her bruised throat as she leaned on the nearby wall. Daggers were sent flying in Loki direction as doe-shaped, amber eyes glared at him.

Loki's smile stretched to loud laughter; all the while he shook and swung the scepter in his hand.

'Ohh, I can practically _smell_ your hatred for me, Miss Foster!' Loki smiled, threading his fingers through his slicked back hair. 'But _don't waste it_.' He raised an eyebrow 'Hatred is an emotion as _valuable_ as love.'

Jane was silent, still massaging her bruised flesh.

'Look how motivational it is, how it stirs that _sweet desire_ for vengeance, how it sets the rage boiling, hmm?' Loki cocked his head to the side 'Fear simply disappears, doesn't it? And it feels _divine_.'

It was Jane's turn to smile, catching Loki completely off guard. 'And what would _you_ know about love?'

A smile fell from his lips.

'What could a man who tried to kill _his_ _own_ brother and a person who is trying to bring an end to a planet possibly know anything about love!?' Jane laughed humorlessly, shaking from excitement and danger.

_Loki pressed his cheek against Darcy's, whispering in her ear '__You will be the death of me.__'_

At first he felt confusion at Jane Foster's words, but then, slowly, shaking red hot fury made its dramatic entrance. _How dare she?_

'You know nothing of love.' Jane spat, straightening up.

Green eyes flashed darkly, meeting the amber ones.

A scream echoed through the large room when Loki whipped one of his thin daggers and sent it flying towards Jane.

Everything she could do was to cover her head and torso with her arms.

The dagger sunk into the wall right next to Jane's head, slashing through a loose strand of her light brown hair, cutting it in two.

He let out a ragged breath, and turned, wishing to get out as soon as possible.

Loki never missed the target. And this time was no exception.

**AN: The song on the beginning is Lana Del Rey - Dark Paradise! PLEASE REVIEW !**


	31. Chapter 31

**AN: My darlings... This chapter is long :) I hope you enjoy it, and I hope the updates will come swifter once my semester is over, but until then - wish me luck! While I wrote this chapter I listened to:**

**Troy Soundtrack - Hectors Death**

**Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Marvel.**

* * *

Chapter 31

_There are things, I have done,_

_There's a place, I have gone,_

_There's a beast, and I let it run,_

_Now it's running my way._

_There are things, I regret,_

_To can't forgive, you can't forget,_

_There's a gift, that you sent,_

_You sent it my way._

_There's a game, that I play, _

_There are rules, I had to break, _

_ There's mistakes, that I made, _

_But I made them my way._

_So take this night,_

_Wrap it around me like a sheet,_

_I know I'm not forgiven,_

_But I need a place to sleep._

_So take this night,_

_And lay me down on the street,_

_I know I'm not forgiven,_

_But I hope that I'll be given,_

_Some peace._

* * *

It was a strange sight indeed – a simple room with a round table, and the most powerful people on Earth sitting around it.

One would expect to see _something_ happening. A conversation at least, maybe an argument. But there they were – sitting in silence, with nothing but grave looks and bowed down heads, desperate in their search for a way out, for absolution, for a spark of hope, an idea…

Today was the first time they met after the explosion on the Hellicarrier and Loki's escape. It took some time to convince Bruce Banner to return to them, this time truly promising him a _relative_ stress-free environment. Thor returned on his own accord while Tony, Steve and _a couple of master assassins_ remained close by.

Natasha and Clint sat closer than ever before, and though they were not touching, Clint was looking at her, his arms folded tensely over his chest, lips pressed in a thin line, pale eyes looking at Natasha like they saw her for the first time in a million years. No words were shared, and as Natasha gazed into her own lap, she felt Clint's eyes on her face, sweeping like windshield wipers over her flaming red hair.

A slight smile danced just behind her red lips, but she kept it inside, and instead raised her eyes to look at the other men sitting around the table.

In Natasha's mind, they looked like nothing less than Knights of the Round Table. But something strange happened to these shining knights.

Instead of sitting upright, looking proud and ready to fight, they looked so dismally lost, so desperately torn and indecisive.

Of course, she knew what the source of their shakiness was.

Natasha Romanoff was present the moment Coulson revealed the dark secret. The revelation that changed everything. Moreover, Natasha was aware she was the only woman in the room, the only female Avenger among these powerful men. And as such, one would expect for her to show more sadness and sympathy towards what happened to Miss Lewis than anyone else in the room. The truth was – she felt close to nothing.

A large part of her felt anger towards Loki Laufeyson, and everything he stood for. And nothing anyone said to her could change that.

Natasha Romanoff has seen much death and loss during her 'career'. Children, men, women, the elderly and the helpless – all burning in the same vessel, no mercy, no sympathy. Natasha _herself_ was the bringer of their end once – the one event she wanted to wipe out of her memory, the one that haunted her and will continue to do so for the rest of her life.

_São Paulo._

The screaming echo of the black memory pushed against her mind, and she closed her eyes, breathing deeply, trying not to fall down _again_.

Her life made her cold, her profession distant and steely. Her nature, her birth, her childhood and what she did for her living – everything piled up and set itself on fire, creating an empty shell of a woman. But then there was Clint. Her only bright spot in the dark ticking clock of her shadowy life. And although Clint was safe and unharmed after recent events, there was a part of her that feared he will never be the same. Not after this… _magic_, and its cruel wielder who enjoyed playing with his mind.

Natasha hated Loki Laufeyson for what he did to Clint. So it didn't surprise her when she felt nothing while Coulson told the tale through the frightening footage a few days back. Bruce was sweating, shaking, the Other guy pounding from the inside, Rogers was on the verge of breaking and Stark was so, so _angry_.

_Why?_ Natasha asked herself. _None of them ever met her. None of them knew her personally._ _Why are they all so worried and bothered all of a sudden? Yes, the enemy loved a woman who died in crossfire. Yes, she is obviously the reason he wants to bring Earth down. But he is dangerous, he threatens, he kills and... tortures. _

To Natasha, this alone was _more_ than enough to view Loki Laufeyson _not_ as a tragic figure, but as a villain who deserved to be stopped. For his own sake, and everyone else's safety.

_He is neither the first nor the last person to loose a loved one. _Natasha thought and then it entered - a flash of a burning house falling down to its foundations in a freezing winter snow storm.

Yes, Natasha agreed what Fury did was wrong. She was repulsed by it, especially because she herself was, once, long ago, wanted dead for doing something similar.

Despite Natasha Romanoff's mixed up moral and general view of the world, the entire situation was highly confusing.

And then there was Thor. And this was the part that puzzled The Black Widow the most. Thor loved his brother, that much was evident, and yet... he said nothing. While Coulson played the film, while he spoke of what happened, of who was responsible for it, of who executed the dark deed... Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Like he was numb, like he prepared himself for it... _Like he knew what was going on._

Her pondering and contemplation was suddenly stopped when Coulson walked in the large glass room.

As he moved, all eyes followed him, and he breathed heavily, his forefinger hooking underneath his collar and tie, the suffocating material suddenly unwanted on his constricted throat.

He sat down onto one free chair, and gazed upon every Avenger seated around him.

'So, gentlemen...' He sighed after a few moments of silence, folding his hands in front of him 'What will be our course of action?'

Tony leaned back into his chair, releasing a raspy laugh that somehow held no humor in its tingling notes. The usually nonchalant lines of Tony's face were forced and ironic. 'You think this is _easy_, Phil?'

Coulson was silent, his eyes focused on Tony's.

'I don't know about everybody else-' Tony was brusque and loud as he swept his eyes across everyone in the room '-but nothing about this situation is normal _or _acceptable to me.'

'You are not the only one who is confused, Tony.' Steve said calmly, his large arms tense next to his enormous torso. 'What Fury did is unacceptable.'

The moment Steve spoke, Tony rolled his eyes, biting his tongue not to throw a crude reply the Captains' way. No particular reason.

'I don't think there is much use in talking or looking back onto what Fury did.' Bruce spoke hesitantly '_May he rest in peace._' The doctor looked tired and drained. The last time the Hulk broke out of his body was particularly violent – probably because Bruce didn't feel it for so many months.

No one replied to that – the moment they heard what happened to Director left everyone with mixed feelings.

Nicholas Fury was now just another name on the black list of the people Loki murdered. And the fact half of the people in the room pitied him, some even understood _why_ he did it, created such a huge trench between the Avengers.

'What's done is done.' Bruce scratched his chin, looking to the polished surface of the expensive wooden table. 'Miss Lewis is dead. Now we can only hope to figure out a plan on how to stop him from killing _more_ people.'

'Well...' Coulson interrupted 'I said Darcy Lewis was severely _injured_, not dead.'

'What?' Everyone turned their heads to Phil's direction, an uncountable number of questions at the ready just beneath their tongues.

'I was unable to say this earlier, due to... what happened-' And Phils blue gaze flicked briefly in Bruce's direction, not blaming him, but rather conveying his message.

'_But_?' Steve sensed, as well as everyone else that this cursed word lurked inside Coulson's voice.

'After the attack in which she was injured, I told you the enemy simply disappeared. After a few minutes, a SHIELD team and myself drove to the place where it happened and we found her.'

Everyone held their breath as he spoke.

'She was alive, but barely, lying in the pool of her own blood. She was shot on so many places, it was a pure miracle she still had pulse.' He heaved a great sigh. 'After giving her the emergency assistance, she was sent to Switzerland. SHIELD made sure she was treated by the best doctors...'

'For heaven's sake, Phil– where is the catch!?' Tony exclaimed.

'A week back I got a phone call from Doctor Béringer.' Coulson frowned deeply, blue eyes watering in the corners 'He told me she was gone.'

'What do you mean gone?' Bruce asked, fearing the worst.

'I don't know.' Coulson stood up, and started pacing 'No one knows. Did she run away? _Was she kidnapped?_ _Unlikely_.'

'Is she in a well enough condition to run away on her own?' Steve asked, running his hand through his blonde locks.

'I don't know.' Coulson shook his head, speaking quickly 'Béringer refuses to have any more dealings with SHIELD and he hung up before I could ask him. She is not a registered member of SHIELD, so we can't track her down. We have no idea on which airport or bus or train station she might have gone to. There is no way we can figure out where she went. We are facing a dead end here.' The tone of Phil's voice rose with each word, the frustration of the situation unbearable.

'Is there a chance she might have run away on her own will?' Bruce inquired tiredly.

'I _hope_ that's the case.' Tony commented.

'Miss Lewis was treated for four months,' Coulson paced slower 'but I'm not a medic – I have no idea how bad her injuries were or how much she was able to recover in Switzerland.'

'She might have-' Tony started, but was quickly interrupted.

'_Can someone explain something to me?_' Natasha raised her voice, her feminine arms folded over her chest as she swayed back and forth in her chair. 'Why are we worrying about Darcy Lewis when _the enemy_ is roaming this planet, leaving more death in his wake each day?'

Natasha felt Clint's gaze on her once more.

'Wherever she is, she is of _no help_ to us.' The steely Russian green eyes moved to each face '_God_ knows if she's even alive. We have to figure out how to bring _him_ down.'

No one answered to that, looks of disagreement evident in the eyes of Tony, Steve, Bruce… Coulson. No one answered to what she suggested, and all Natasha received were cold looks of discord and tense silence. Fire sprung to life inside the Black Widow.

'You are unbelievable!' She exclaimed, her red head whipping around her face as she stood up. 'All of you. _You pity him!_'

'Natasha, we're not-' Bruce started, smiling a bit.

'No, Bruce, I'm not an idiot.' She replied curtly '_Avengers_!' She scoffed 'I can't believe _you_ people are predisposed to protect your planet, realm - _whatever the hell you want to call it!_ Forget about the fact he is in love, forget about Lewis, forget about all of that.'

'He killed so many SHILED agents, he kidnapped Selvig, he ripped Fury apart! He tortures – look what he did to Clint!' Natasha motioned to the man seated next to her, his face covered in small plasters. Cuts and redness graced the rough lines of his face.

'Tasha-' An ever so silent warning in Clint's voice did little to calm her down.

'What Fury did is wrong, but did he deserve that ending? Did he really deserve to go _like that_?'

Phil looked down into his hands, clenching his fingers.

'I would expect this kind of attitude _from Thor_, but not from_ -_'

'Nat, maybe you should back down-'

'I just want to know how do you plan to find Lewis? And what _exactly_ do you plan to do once you find her!? Nothing can help Laufeyson now, the guy is _beyond_ reason!'

Once the words left Natasha Romanoff's lips, Thor stood up slowly, his frightening form towering and awe-inspiring.

Not even the fact the Norse god himself stood up could ease Natasha's tone or temper. '_Oh_ and _while_ we're at the questions unanswered.' She turned to the god of thunder, voice lowering down to a murmur 'Why do I feel like you knew what happened to them _before_ Coulson showed us the film a few days back?'

Clint took hold of Natasha's forearm before she could say another word, and forced her down next to him, her chest heaving. It was very rarely that Natasha Romanoff yelled, and each time she did, the cold Russian mask would crumple, and the true, fiery nature would burst forwards, like a magnificent, dangerous fireworks display. Hawkeye himself only saw it a few times, and… by God, each time it happened, Clint Barton remembered exactly _why_ he adored her, and why she belonged only to him.

'If you are done yelling, agent Romanoff, I would like to say a few words.'

Thor's expression was grave as he regarded everyone in the room.

'There are many things about my brother that have always confused both my parents and myself.' He leaned on his huge fists, supporting his tense torso while he spoke, the messy blonde hair falling into his otherworldly blue eyes.

Bruce and Tony looked at each other as they both felt this story was not going to end well.

'He was always different. I saw it, but I never inquired why. I was loud, brash, ostentatious, and proud beyond any measure. Loki was a complete opposite. I remember father saying this to me one day. ' Thor smiled, almost tenderly '_Loki is more like a knife in the dark, my son._'

Steve's eyebrows met in the middle as the bittersweet expression of longing and nostalgia covered Thor's royal face. The words spoken by Thor, the pagan god himself, held such weight and meaning to them that they were able to touch even Steve Rogers, a Catholic, and a great believer.

Why? Well, probably because even a tale of gods and goddesses seemed _so_ human when flowing out of Thor's lips in such a manner.

'Mother adored us both equally, but as much as one _loves_ to deny it, father prefered me.'

Everyone in the room listened to the confession of a god, eyes wide, ears opened, lips parted.

'Father always told us – _both of you were born to be kings._' An expression of greatest regret welled up on the lines of his face 'But all three of us knew the truth. I was destined to become the ruler of the realm – being a firstborn, being older, stronger.'

Thor's enormous chest rose with heavy breaths as he continued.

'My arrogance is what brought me to Midgard in the first place. This arrogance was tolerated in my youth, but even then, when all this boldness and brashness filling my vision – I saw Loki suffering.'

'You see...' Thor smiled sadly 'There was a third brother. Baldr was his name, and he was the youngest. Loki and I were both young men when he died.' Thor stopped for a moment, remembering the broken wails of his mother, the accusations of his father 'Loki was_ blamed _for Baldr's death_. _He suffered the worst punishment imaginable, by the hand of none other, than his _own_ father.'

Tony rubbed his forehead with his palm, slowly shaking his head back and forth in disbelief.

'The attack unleashed upon Midgard a year ago was, _indeed_, my brothers doing. He hated me, and wanted me dead, but more than myself I think he hated Odin.'

Bruce looked at Thor like never before, his cold face cradled in his palm, arm propped on his knee.

'During my banishment on Midgard, Loki found out he was not an Odinson. He was adopted. He was, still is, and forever will remain a child of the enemy. He is of Jottun blood, an unwanted son of their king Laufey. And that is why you call him a Laufeyson.'

Natasha looked to the ground.

'Loki and I ... we were always close, despite him being so different from everyone else, despite him prefering magic over swords, reading over battles, despite him having actual _manners'_ Thor smiled distantly 'Unlike my crude self.'

Coulson cracked a small smile, the apsurdity of his feelings not sinking in yet.

'But after Baldr perished, after he was punished, the darkness that enveloped my brother grew.' Now, any trace of tenderness disappeared from Thor's expression. 'One day, my father and I talked, and he told me of Loki's powers.'

'I always knew my brother was powerful, and he was _not_ to be crossed, but what my father told me terrified me to an unexpected degree. I now _knew_ of the untold measure of my brother's power.'

Steve's handsome face was enveloped in a frown as he listened to Thor.

'I knew what Loki was capable of. I knew it all to well.' There was a moment of silence, and then he continued 'Now that I think about it – I don't think the Snake was the worst punishment faith could scourge my brother with.'

'In the past, you Midgardians always loved to tell stories about us.' Thor smiled sadly 'I remember reading one while I stayed with Jane. It said, the end of the world came swiftly, right after my brother was punished for Baldr's death.' Thor swallowed 'The book said he brought the end of this world out of rage and vengeance. But I can assure you, after we saved him from the rock he was chained on, there was no end of the world, no war, no final battle, nothing this book spoke of.'

The wind howled outisde the glass walls, the gigantic black cloud traveling aboved them, carried by the silent night.

'He _is_ a dark, cold person, my brother.' Thor said 'But I always believed there was a part of him that was not so frozen as he seemed. And now...' Thor lifted his eyes to the skies, voice breaking '... _Now I have proof_.'

Natasha felt a lump forming in her throat as she observed Thor. It looked like he was talking to the heavens now, the glass ceiling showing nothing but the gloomy night sky.

'Now my brother went _mad_ with pain...' The strong voice of the god of thunder quivered, resembling that of an insecure boy '... _because of love_.'

'It is true, Natasha.' Thor sat down 'I knew what happened to Darcy before Son of Coul showed us the moving picture. _I was present, watching all of it while it happened. From above._'

Coulson's mouth fell open as the missing part of the complex puzzle clicked into place.

...

_'The prince is haunted, and he __cannot__ hide from his punishment.'_

_Coulson stared at Thor, not fully comprehending. An alarm continued screaming. Thor said the next words with a heavy face, with a tone filled with agony, as if he was repeating them… as if they were never his own._

_'He must __learn__ from his mistakes.'_

...

'My father...' Thor's fist covered his lips as he screwed his eyes shut for a moment. 'The crown of the Realm Eternal is forever heavy on its kings head. My father is not a bad man, but the burden of his throne made him stern and somethimes... cruel.'

'Loki did not _only_ attack Midgard - he brought the enemy to the threshold of our parents' bedchamber, tricking the Frost giants, and in the end slaying Laufey, their king. But this game of his nearly killed Frigga, our mother, _and_ Odin. With lies, he took the throne for a short amount of time, and then sent the Destroyer on Earth to kill me. In Asgard, we are able to observe what transpires on Midgard, and when Darcy was attacked-'

Tony laughed in disbelief slowly, voicing everyones thoughts '_You can't be serious-_' Steve and Bruce couldn't believe what they were hearing. Even Clint and Natasha stared at Thor in puzzlement.

Thor looked at Stark, his eyes hard and ashamed 'He wanted to teach Loki a lesson. My father knew how taken Loki was by Darcy, and he had the power to interfere during the attack.' He said 'But he didn't.'

'Why the hell not?' Bruce exclaimed 'That's insane and ridiculous!'

'_Have care how you speak!_' Thor suddenly boomed, his fist clenching, a growl in his deep voice. He composed quickly, when he saw the tell-tale darkening inside Bruce's eyes. Coulson felt a cold sweat on the nape of his neck – the room was, indeed, _a time-bomb_.

'I apologize, Doctor Banner.' Thor bowed his head down.

'I apologize to every single one of you for all that my brother did. I can not even begin to unknot this situation. All I wish is to face my brother and stop _this_ - this chaos.' Blue eyes of the god of thunder lighted up 'I do not expect anyone's understanding or sympathy on this matter – all I wish is to bring him to back to Asgard, back home, where, despite everything, he always have and always will belong.'

**AN: The song from the beginning is 'This Night - Black Lab'. Please REVIEW !**


	32. Chapter 32

**AN: I'm sorry for the wait, darlings. :') I promise the next one will arrive more quickly! Thank you for your continuous support!**

**While I wrote this I listened to: Asura - Golgotha & Batman Begins - Barbastella  
**

**I hope you are all having wonderful holidays! See you in the New Year! :)**

**Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Marvel.**

* * *

Chapter 32

_I'm waking up to ash and dust,  
I wipe my brow and I sweat my rust,  
I'm breathing in the chemicals.  
I'm breaking in, shaping up,_

_Then checking out on the prison bus.  
This is it, the apocalypse._

_I'm waking up, I feel it in my bones,  
Enough to make my systems blow.  
Welcome to the new age,  
I'm radioactive. _

* * *

The meeting was finished. The once filled room was now empty. Everyone left, except Thor.

The blond god sat alone, with crossed arms and one fist over his unmoving lips. Unshed tears leaked from the corners of his eyes, and he sucked a shuddering breath, the enormous lungs filling with tension.

_I never wanted the throne!_

Oh how it echoed, how it still _howled_ at him, every single day since that night. Guilt, regret, fear.

_I should've held him tighter. I should've pulled him up immediately._

'Thor?'

It was Coulson. Thor wiped his eyes with the back of his calloused fist, turning stiffly to look over his shoulder at the agent. An angry, hard look graced his proud face. The face of a king.

'They agreed.'

'Excuse me?' Thor asked incredulously, his voice rising.

'After you told them the whole story…' Coulson sighed 'Just- They understand. And they want to help you.'

Thor laughed humorlessly, his chuckle mocking and laced with anger. He looked away from Phil 'They understand? Do they _really_? Which part do they understand, Son of Coul? The part where my father tortures my own brother _twice_, _or_ the part where I just sit back and watch it all happen before my eyes?'

_Why did you let go? Why did you let go, Loki?_

Once more, he wiped away the water from his eyes, chuckling all the while, his rumbling, deep voice rising like a tide, filling the room

'You expect me to believe that they _understand_ why Loki is doing it? You expect me to believe their sympathy is nothing more than just a pretense?'

Phil went serious. The grave, sad expression _disappeared_. There was nothing sad or weak in the tone of his voice when Phil Coulson spoke next.

'Don't be so quick to ridicule their compassion – believe it or not, they harbor it for both _you_ and your brother.' He said coldly 'There is nothing behind this but truth. They have no reason to lie to you about this. They just want to protect their planet. They think of you as a part of that team, Thor. And as much as some of them want to deny it - the most _powerful_ part of the team.'

Thor looked down, a _strange_ sight indeed - a god embarrassed at his own improper behavior _by a mortal man_. A man shorter, weaker and centuries younger than him, and yet, in this moment – wiser.

Coulson turned to leave.

'You know…' When Phil reached the doorway, he turned 'The Avengers, more than anyone, are bound to understand this situation. They are not at all angels. They are all flawed, _just like you and me._' Coulson smiled sadly 'Natasha, Clint, Tony, Bruce – they all have a burden of their own crimes to carry. We are _all_ flawed, Thor. We remember the moment others forgave us, the moment they offered us understanding and picked up from the floor… Because of this reason, we are able to do the same for others.'

…

Blood spilled over the sky, ruthlessly smearing the whiteness of the clouds and the pale, early morning. The moon still lingered on the other side of horizon, its mysterious glow dimming under the force of the waking sun. Piercing beams of light lit up the dirty streets of New York that were filling up with more people and cars each passing minute.

This morning was just like any other – a vast world repressed into a daily routine, flowing like a river through the narrow streets, worrying about a variety of things, beaming with laughter, yelling, crying, observing, talking. Doors were slowly opening, engines started roaring, items were being brought out or taken in, bought, sold, borrowed, made.

It was an ordinary Wednesday and the city of New York was slowly waking up.

Inside this concrete jungle, among these millions of mortal souls walked Loki Laufeyson. Unrecognizable, wearing clothes of Midgardian fashion - he blended in like a darker shade of pigment on fine canvas; his appearance was unsuspicious.

The black suit made him look like a business man on his way to his fancy office on Manhattan. His walk was slow but determined, his slicked back dark hair making his appearance a bit more eccentric. The only thing that made him truly stand out was the elegant cane he wore tucked under his arm.

With a sadistic shudder in his body, Loki relished the fact he walked among the very nation he planned to turn to ash after the next full moon.

A soft breeze caressed Loki's cheek, and he closed his emerald eyes. The wind did wonders to soothe the shaking fists he slammed deeply inside his black pockets and the clenched fingers that begged him to halt, turn back and whip out another dagger, this time truly sinking its silver blade in Jane Foster's chest.

_I should've ripped her beating heart out of her chest. I should've left it on a silver platter for Thor to find it.  
_

Oh but his mind argued – better to keep her safe, until the time is right. Jane Foster was _yet_ to play her role in this story.

The ominous thoughts were suddenly interrupted.

After rounding a corner, a crystal skyline appeared – rising high above his head, and just for a second, one small, short second – awe filled Loki, not different from the one he felt while in Stuttgart.

As much as his opinion of Midgardians appeared to be crawling across the _lowest_ level imaginable, he couldn't help but agree with what Darcy said when they first met.

_'Of course you're going to react like this!' Darcy was annoyed 'You think we're dull, unintelligent, not capable of anything – but our planet has great value!'_

The passionate tone of her voice rang like an ancient melody in his mind, so far away, and _still_ he saw it vividly – how her eyes narrowed while she spoke to him, a bubbling anger charging like a herd of wild horses towards the cliff, stopping itself just before it flew down.

_She was right._

Indeed, as much as Mortals _seemed_ unworthy, it was inside the mind of special few that the Trickster saw true merit. The fruit of their labor, the beauty of their imagination, the craft and the art of giving life to their ideas, while stripped of _any_ magic or power, with nothing but bare hands and an open heart, triggered a certain amount of… admiration inside him.

The last time Loki visited Midgard, mortals were a poor, undeveloped race, chained to the small rock in both mind and body. But now… Things have changed.

And the desire to enslave it rose higher than before, the craving to possess it, to own it and in the end – to burn it. To burn the people who wronged him, who took her away from him. To send a message to the Nine realms.

A planet enslaved, swallowed by flames would be like a scream of terror across the cosmos. It would reach Jötunheim, Vanaheim, Alfheim… and ultimately _Asgard_.

It would be a scream of rage, such a clear, dark message - _Prepare for war, old man_.

Before he could blink, Loki found himself in the heart of the city. An oddly shaped building stretched higher than the rest, the large letters shining in the morning light – _Stark_.

A small smirk welled up on Loki's face as he twirled his cane, one eyebrow raised in wonder.

_A monument built to the sky. A monument that will be nothing but ash by the end of the week._

Once more, he stretched his neck, and observed the glass monster. Loki marveled at the small illusion that played with his eye - while standing closely to a high building and looking up, the edifice _seemed_ to be toppling over. An interesting mirage the eye conjured with the help of the traveling clouds.

A sudden emptiness filled Loki as he lowered his gaze. A certain feeling of dullness and vacancy settled in his chest.

The fact he was capable of admiring a race and desiring to wipe it out in the same time, the fact his heart was practically ripped from his chest, and in the same time it skipped a beat very much alive and beating, when he remembered her. The fact he hated and loved with just about equal strength. The fact that he desired Darcy in his mind, and yet he despised her whenever she entered his dreams. It all clashed inside him.

But the clash did not cause a storm, not this time. This time it lingered in silence.

A voice reached him, coming from the left. A male voice. It was so distant, but strangely familiar.

A man was leaning back on a black, shining, expensive looking vehicle. Everything about the man screamed – _success, conceit, self-sufficiency, narcissism_.

He gestured wildly while he spoke on the phone, drawing looks of the people passing by. _This one_ was successful; judging by the place he parked his car, the part of the city he inhabited and the obnoxious, somewhat indecent way he spoke to a person on his mobile phone.

Loki narrowed his eyes, looking at the man over his shoulder.

'_Babe, come on -_' The man crowed on the phone, a brilliant smile on his face.

For some reason, everything _slowed down_, and with a large amount of repulsion, Loki recognized the way the man held a cigarette between his fingers, dragging the grey mist inside his lungs, and releasing it through his nostrils. He saw the obtuse blue gaze and a mop of perfectly combed blond hair.

Loki leaned on the glass wall at the base of the Stark tower, a positively menacing grin stretching his handsome face.

Oh, he remembered him.

_The slap knocked Darcy off her already shaky feet. She caught her red cheek inside her hot palms, and with fear looked up at Marc in shock and disbelief._

_'You are pathetic, Darcy...' he sniffed, smirking disgustingly, as he reached for his pocket and fished his cigarettes out. Crouching down in front of her scared, now curled form, he lighted one cigarette up, and blowing the smoke into Darcy's face, looked down at her, smiling gruesomely. 'You are a stupid, lonely little girl.' _

Yes, Loki remembered him _quite_ well.

The man clicked his phone and pocketed it, turning swiftly on his heel and locking the black car. Then he proceeded to walk in Loki's direction, eventually walking past him and across down a narrow street, unaware of the shadow that will soon follow him.

Loki pushed of the wall, and paced behind, soft and silent.

The man, _Marc_, was even taller than inside Darcy's dream. There was a small skip in his walk, the shining leather dress shoes grabbing long steps, the grey suit tailored just for him shining with every movement. Once again, his phone rang, and he reached for it. Loki shut his voice from his head, not wishing to hear him speak.

With unashamed, perverse delight the Lie-smith enjoyed the thought of what he was about to do to him. Just like when the man struck Darcy inside her memory, Loki felt his fingers tingling with magic.

The anger bred by the dream from last night, fueled by his inability to kill Jane Foster, sunk its teeth to the vision of Marc. Or, at least, it was about to.

And it shook Loki to his core; to see him – a man, a demon from Darcy's nightmare, come alive. He felt as if they switched places –she and Marc. Darcy went into Loki's dreams… and this, _this _arrogant man stood before him, in flesh and blood, in all his disgusting living glory.

Marc barked in laughter, rounding a corner with a hand inside his pocket. The loud street crowded with people disappeared as both men walked into a smaller alley. Marc stopped in front of a doorway.

This was it.

Loki gripped the elegant cane more firmly in his fist and cracked his neck to the side, releasing the tension that filled it.

Without a word, the Trickster approached.

…

The voices shrieked, pouring into each corner of the large airport.

As soon as she sensed the looks they gave her, as soon as she saw her own picture on one of the screens, she ran.

They shouted at her to stop, to freeze, to turn back.

Eventually, they chased her.

She sprinted with nothing but clothes on her back, panic in her eyes and a barely-recognizable limp in her right leg. She ran across the large, people-filled premise, marked on every corner with a single word – _Arrivals_.

**AN: The song from the beginning is Radioactive by Imagine Dragons and its one of my favorite songs at the moment :) PLEASE REVIEW ! **


	33. Chapter 33

**AN: Well hello 2013. I know I'm kind of late, but I wish you all the best in the New Year! THANK YOU for reviewing! :)  
**

**LOVELIES! I have splendid news! Ink and Parchment has been nominated for 'Tasertricks Fan Fiction Awards' on tumblr in 2 categories - Favorite Angst and Favorite Chapter Fic (Multi-chapter piece). I am so excited and I would love you forever if you popped by and voted for me. Here is the link: **

** tasertricksffawards DOT tumblr DOT com/tagged/vote  
**

**The voting is open until ****Sunday January 20**.  


**While I wrote this I listened to:  
**

**Olafur Arnalds - ...Og Lengra **

**Skyrim Soundtrack - Sovngarde **

**Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Marvel.**

* * *

Chapter 33

A warning to the people, the good and the evil,

This is war.

To the soldier, the civilian, the martyr, the victim,

This is war.

A warning to the prophet, the liar, the honest,

This is war.

Oh, to the leader, the pariah, the victim, the messiah,

This is war.

* * *

Something woke Jane Foster from her restless slumber. The noise pushed itself through the maze of her troubled unconsciousness, and shook her awake.

Ice was all that existed. The coldness of the floor beneath her creeped so deeply into her bones, she felt numb. So numb. Drowsiness from the black dreams washed away so quickly when the yells and pleas came running closer.

_'Please! Let me go! I haven't done anything! Please! PLEASE!'_

She pushed herself on her elbows, and observed the blurriness through her messy tresses. Her face was dirty, except for the clear streaks her tears left as they fell, marking their sorrowful path.

The broken fabric of her clothing brought her no warmth at all.

Jane tried to sit up. She was so tired, starved and cold, exhausted and angry. Thousand questions piled up in her mind, too complex and too dark for her to even dare open them.

She blinked away the fog in her vision, and as she did so – she saw him - Loki. Wild and angry, he charged forward, nearly running, dragging a person behind himself.

The person was a man, and he was kicking and screaming. Loki dragged him by the back of his neck, pulling him behind himself like the man weighted no more than an empty bag.

They were getting closer, and Jane scrambled back on her hands and knees, trying to get to the corner of the large room, away from him and the hysterical man Loki threw against the wall.

Jane watched from the shadows as the man collected his scattered limbs, and curled himself like a wounded animal would, pressing his face fully onto the concrete wall, scared beyond belief of the looming shadow that was Thor's brother.

Loki crouched down, dressed in the same clothes he wore when he kidnapped Jane. His white knuckles terrified Jane, and she observed the slow, drumming twitch on Loki's temple as his face came closer to the shaking man.

He gripped the scepter with the shining blue gem near its razor sharp tip. It glowed like a sinister eye as he lowered it to the side of the man's neck. He whispered something to him, with such slow, torturous sadism.

Before Jane could blink, Loki stood up, the expensive fabric of his long black coat fluttered around his legs. He turned on his heel, leaving the shaking form of the man beneath his feet.

As he walked away, the clothes on his back turned to black and emerald green armor, his shoulders widening, his posture straightening. He walked swiftly, with an air of confidence and nobility.

The moment he rounded the corner, Jane thought the room was warmer.

The man was on the verge of tears as he turned his bruised purple neck, cringing and moaning, and met Jane's eyes.

For a moment, they just looked at each other, blue eyes set on auburn ones, both bloodshot, both scared, and both sharing the equal amount of bewilderment.

Silence fell around them.

'I know you-' Jane started, pointing her delicate finger towards the man's face. Slowly, she approached him, scooting closer on her knees.

_Two years ago, one gloomy afternoon, Jane was searching for her notebook she left in Darcy's room in Puente Antiguo. Among numerous papers and books scattered around Darcy's work desk, Jane saw a crumpled and creased picture of two people. They were smiling, arms around each other. Darcy was the on the left, and on the right stood a blonde man-_

'Is your name Marc?' Jane asked with a whisper '_Marc Farrow?_'

His face was badly beaten - his lip was split in half, bruises were imprinted on his cheeks, he had a broken nose, a deep cut on his forehead and a broken arcade that was still oozing blood, covering half of his face in crimson, dripping onto his neck.

'How do you know my name?' Marc croaked, breathing hard, slowly rolling the sleeve of his expensive shirt and using it to dab away the blood.

Jane paused, looking down and licking her dry lips 'I know Darcy.'

...

The sun was disappearing, bleeding across the sky, its tones bathing the New York city in warm light. It cried as it departed, passing on the sky to the moon, to the dark night, and shadow.

_'That foolish boy made the biggest mistake of his small miserable life when he touched you.' Loki sighed, closing his eyes 'Women should be treated differently.'_

The god of lies sat on the bed he conjured, looking at his palms. The pale surface was stained with dried blood, the knuckles bruised from the numerous blows that landed on the face and body he used as a punching bag for the majority of the afternoon. This time, he didn't need the scepter.

_'He shall be punished for how he treated you.' Loki told her.  
_

Loki lifted his hands to his mouth, and spoke a few healing spells, blowing one icy breath, making the marks disappear.

Once again he turned towards the hole in the wall.

The sun was gone.

Comfort filled him as the air darkened.

...

'_D-Darcy? Lewis?_' Despite his still shaking body, and evident shock, a small laugh of disbelief escaped him, and it soon turned in a groan of pain 'Well, isn't _this_ a small world?'

'Yes...' Jane regarded the man coldly, leaning back and hugging her knees to her chest _'It is.'_

Silence enveloped them, and all that could be heard was the whistling wind and an occasional police siren.

Jane wanted to withhold the next words, but the memory of Darcy's confession of her dark secret, the tale of her controlling, violent ex – boyfriend too shocking to keep her thoughts to herself. Even two years after Jane inquired about the crumpled picture, Darcy's words clung onto Jane, refusing to let go.

'You treated her terribly.' Jane's voice echoed through the room and shadow 'How _could_ you do that to her?'

Marc gave Jane a cocky, flirty smile that jumped between a smirk of confidence and a grimace of pain flaring in side from his broken ribs.

'So... She told you about me?' He continued smiling gruesomely. Jane glared at him 'Darcy told you our little story, right? I assume you're friends.'

She was silent.

'Oh, come on sweetheart – don't look at me like that.' He groaned, trying to sit up.

'Don't call me sweetheart!' Jane snapped, narrowing her wide eyes at him 'She told me enough about you to know not to get involved with your kind.'

A mock offended look welled up on his beaten face. 'My kind?' Despite his good looks and something one might call a charming smile, Jane felt disgust and repulsion while looking at him.

'Yes, your kind.' Her words were like cutting steel 'An aggressive bastard who forces his own girlfriend into doing things she doesn't want to! A fool who uses her and then throws her away, lies to her and in the end – hits her!'

'_Woah._' Marc breathed in mock hurt, and Jane wanted to hit him. '_That's hurtful._'

'You wouldn't use that word if you knew what kind of pain awaits us at the hands of this man.' Jane hissed, her eyes burning.

This time, he didn't respond. Instead, he leaned his head to the wall, his gaze fixed on the improvised lab on the other side of the vast room.

'Why are we here?' Marc voiced the question darkly.

After a few minutes of pregnant silence, it still echoed in Jane's mind before she managed to answer.

'I know why _I'm_ here...' She said slowly '...but I can't say the same about you.'

A serious expression fell on his face, a cutting edge present on his features. Marc said nothing.

Night fell.

Marc's fingers shook badly, a small fever washing over him as he reached in his pocket from his pack of cigarettes. The white box was practically ripped in half, but still he managed to find an undamaged cigarette and light it up in the darkness of the room.

'Someone _better_ give me some answers.' He blew the smoke nervously; his dry, cracked lips quivered.

'Or what?' Jane laughed softly, still hugging her knees to her chest 'You're going to torture me more with your _idiotic_ banter while our lives are in danger?'

'I just want to know why the hell did my normal day turn out to be hell! I was walking down the street and the guy just jumped on me!' Marc yelled.

'Keep your voice down!' Jane hissed, her honey tresses wild around her head.

'Keep my voice down!?' Marc threw the cigarette butt away from him violently 'I have a right to know!'

'We no longer have the _luxury_ of _rights_!' Jane hissed at him 'Can you just use your head _for a second_? Don't you see who this man is?'

Marc's eyes searched Jane's rapidly, trying to comprehend.

'Look...' Jane started '...You are not the only one who is under this man's fist. There are others under his control.'

'Well, w-where are they?' Marc exclaimed 'We must find them, if there's more of us we can get fight back and get away from here!'

'No, no.' Jane shook her head frantically. Her wide eyes filled with tears and anger 'Y-You don't understand who he is.'

Marc mirrored Jane's stare, unblinking and shocked by her tortured visage.

'_You don't understand who he is._' The words repeated themselves, and Jane buried her head between her knees.

She continued 'He controls my friend and his colleagues. He kidnapped me. Now you.' Her voice was slow and placid, defeated and tired in its soft tones. _'But why?'_ Jane scratched at her wrists in frustration and nervousness.

'Why does he need _me_ or _Erik_? Or even you!' Jane exclaimed, now talking to herself.

She lifted her eyes to Marc. He was staring to the floor – unmoving. Cigarette ash covered his already dirty trousers.

Like Thor's lightning struck her right in her heart, Jane halted, breath catching inside her bruised throat and suddenly - it clicked.

The missing link, the lost piece of the puzzle was finally presented to her. The one question that she forgot to ask herself.

_Where is Darcy?_

Before Marc could stop her or ask where she was going, Jane stood up and reached inside her pocket.

Her frozen fingertips found their prize. Jane Foster took a firm hold onto the thin, silver dagger that nearly took her life the night before.

On the tips of her toes, she sneaked behind the makeshift lab, past the azure blue eyes of the controlled agents and Erik, past the hole in the wall made by the dagger she now held in her hand and, like a shadow, disappeared around the corner.

...

The abandoned construction building was dirty and desolated. Jane didn't expect to find so many corridors. And they all looked the same.

_What was I thinking!?_

She paced slowly, her face warped in fear and uncertainty. She gripped the dagger in her fist and slowly lowered it in her pant pocket.

She heard a buzzing sound. Light streamed down from one of the door-less rooms on the end of the long, dark hall. Like a fading lamp, it disappeared, and before Jane could shield her eyes, it shone again, a blinding, bright blue – like the glowing Cube Erik so diligently worked on.

Jane pressed her back to the wall, slowing her already silent steps, and covering her mouth with her palm so even her breathing couldn't be heard.

She reached the door-less hole in the wall. Voices came closer.

The burning curiosity and unanswered questions not giving her a moment of peace, Jane summoned all her courage, and peeked into the room.

Jane had to rub her eyes in order to check if tiredness and hunger were playing games with her vision.

Loki stood in the middle of the large, dusty room. All around him, beneath his feet, even above him - opened another dimension. Like a crystal fog, the ripped endings of another time and space glowed in the dark room. The entire thing was flowing like liquid silver and blue through the azure gem in Loki's scepter.

Inside the center of the wound in Earth's time and space paced _a thing_.

Its face was hidden, it wore an armor, but what terrified Jane the most were its mouth – bloody, rotten cavern with dark teeth and six fingers on each blue hand. Stars and nebula glinted in the background, the constellations completely foreign to Jane. It paced on rocky round.

It spoke to Loki.

Thor's brother looked at it, his dark back turned to Jane.

'Observe the Scepter.' It hissed and growled, sounding as if it was made out of three other poisonous voices. 'Don't forget your _real_ purpose here.' Its blood-curdling voice echoed around the room.

'Whatever are you talking about?' Loki said lowly.

'_Cube is all you have to focus on_. No feelings, _Asgardian_.' The Other now stood behind a rock, spitting out the last word like it held a bad taste. '_He_ thinks you have strayed from the path _He_ set before your feet.'

Loki was silent.

'He is not a fool.' It growled 'He knows what you _want_, what you plan to do _once_ you conquer Midgard. He senses you might use the Tesseract for your own _selfish_ needs, for your own vengeance.'

'You should speak with your master again.' Loki paced slowly, his murmur matching the intensity of the Other 'You must have _misheard_ him, Messenger.'

The snarl it released chilled Jane to her very core, and she flinched, hiding herself more behind the wall, only the top of her head peeking out.

'Misheard!?' The thing boomed, clenching its six fingers into thick fists 'How dare you!? He provided you with an army that stands at your call! And you dare question his orders? His words?'

'His army will be used!' Loki snapped back, his proud forehead lifting, the raven hair falling around his pale neck. 'He will get his _beloved_ Cube.'

The Other paced the rocky ground, observing Loki even though his eyes were hidden.

Loki continued 'You and your master are _gravely_ mistaken if you think you have any power over me. _I am not one of your puppets_.'

'Are you certain?'

'Why yes.' Loki lifted his eyebrows 'I am as certain in that as I am in the fact I have _nothing_ left to lose here, or anywhere else in the World. There is nothing you can threaten me with, nothing you can use against me.'

Before Loki could reply, something shone in the blue gem on his scepter. First it was hidden by his body, but then it grew, the vision of a girl with dark hair and equally dark eyes.

'How about now?'

An iron fist took hold of Jane's heart when she saw her friend. Tears rushed to her eyes, spilling over the hand she wrapped around her own lips.

Through tears, she observed as Loki Laufeyson tightened like a string, only his chest tensing and raising as he breathed hard.

'What is this?' The god of mischief released something between a laugh and a growl 'Are you trying to drive me mad?'

The Other was silent. 'I do not have to do that, Asgardian – you are already insane.'

'You _lie_, Trickster.' The Other crowed 'But His gaze pierces right through them. And what He sees disappoints him. A tender feeling?'

Nothing happened, but when its crimson mouth curved into a smile, Jane saw Loki break whatever barriers held him.

Black fury lifted inside the Trickster, his green eyes darkening, nostrils flaring at the disrespect, disparagement and derision of Thanos and his accursed herald.

'Oh, what a sin you've just committed, Messenger...' Loki closed his eyes slowly 'Such a mistake.'

Smile fell from Other's face.

'You thought of me as a pampered prince who ran away from the family who declined his desires, a petulant child who will do your bidding and in return be happy with his new toy – Midgard?' Loki laughed out loud 'You _honestly thought_ you could satisfy me with Midgardian realm?'

The Other made no sound, no move.

'I am not my brother. He, who is like a leashed dog to this pathetic planet, trained to do its every wish and command, with mighty thunder at its beck and call!' Loki spoke loudly.

'I am Loki of Asgard.' Loki's lips quivered as his rage returned _'_I am a king, a sorcerer_, a god._' His fist gripped his weapon, magic seeping through the tips of his fingers, fueling the power of the Scepter, and second by second, closing the portal through which he spoke with the Other.

The Other sensed it. He grew restless, hurrying around, unable to stop the rip from closing.

'No one can command me. And you and your master _should never_ provoke me.' Loki said, anger lacing his voice _'Not with her.'_

'I command you to stop this magic, Asgardian! NOW!'

'_Our deal is broken._' Loki lifted the scepter, pointing it at the heart of the another dimension, his teeth bared. _'Run and tell your master._'

'You have betrayed him.'

'Be gone.'

'You have betrayed Thanos!' The Other roared.

'I said be gone!' And with the last blow of magic from the tip of the Scepter, the dimension closed, the black fog closing in on itself until only silence remained.

Loki was once again alone in the room with a conjured bed.

He breathed hard, flexing his fists, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand.

Jane still kept her hand over her mouth, but before she could control herself, she sucked in a shuddering breath. It was too loud, and Loki heard it.

He twirled around with frightening speed and grace. His emerald eyes fell onto Jane before she could hide.

Without thinking, Jane turned and ran away, her tears falling down rapidly in panic.

She hated herself. Absolutely hated herself.

Jane rounded the corner, her feet leaving footsteps in the dirt and dust.

Another corner. Then another.

She couldn't hear him behind her. Jane looked back. No one. All of a sudden, she bumped into Loki.

Giving a loud yelp, Jane pressed her back to the nearest dark wall and shakily took hold of Loki's dagger. Her delicate fingers were trembling, her palms sweating.

'You threaten me with my own weapon?' He smiled at her.

'Where is Darcy?'

Loki took a step _closer_, all emotion banished from his visage.

'It's because of her, isn't it?' Jane held the dagger in front of herself more firmly.

_Even closer._

'God...' A sob flew out of Jane, tears filling her almond shaped eyes 'What h-happened when I left? What did you do to Darcy!?'

He towered over her now, green eyes burning.

'You should stop now, Miss Foster.' He murmured, something sinister creeping underneath the masculine rumble.

'Last time, _I missed_.' Then he took hold of her wrist and twisted it ruthlessly, making Jane scream in pain. The dagger clanged on the floor. 'This time I just _may_ hit the target.'

**AN: The song form the beginning is This is war - Thirty Seconds To Mars. Next chapter is the chapter in which the battle between Loki and Avengers occurs. Wish me luck, because - let me tell you - these chapters are not easy to write. PLEASE ****REVIEW ! **:)  



	34. Chapter 34

**AN: Darlings, I am SO SORRY for the wait, I promise the next one will come sooner. This chapter is a breaking point of so many elements of Ink and Parchment, and I had to make lots of decisions regarding the continuation of the story - this is the main reason why it took me so long to update. In other news - INK AND PARCHMENT WON IN BOTH CATEGORIES ON Tasertricks Fanfiction Awards on tumblr! I AM SO HAPPY! If you voted, thank you so incredibly much! **

**While I wrote this I listened to: The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim OST - Tundra****  
Man of Steel - Trailer Music HD 2013**

**I hope you enjoy it!**

**Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Marvel.**

* * *

Chapter 34

_I can't tell you what it really is,  
I can only tell you what it feels like.  
And right now it's a steel knife,  
In my windpipe.  
I can't breathe but I still fight,  
While I can fight.  
As long as the wrong feels right,  
It's like I'm in flight.  
High off of love,  
Drunk from my hate.  
And right before I'm about to drown,  
She resuscitates me._

* * *

Throughout the long history of Midgardian realm, each great culture had a religion, a belief. A pantheon. _Gods._

And when reviewing this long story of Man, rarely would we find evidence these _Gods_ descended from their eternal dwellings to walk beside mortal souls – the very beings they despised for their plainness; the very beings whose minds were so easily corrupted, souls so easily seduced, whose nature was so pliable, so weak.

But the truth was… The gods envied mortals.

Always have.

They envied them on their mortality. To those whose clock was ticking all too quickly every taste, sight and sound was treasured, because time was limited, minutes and hours ran by so fast.

Even though they were immortal, with centuries on their hands, gods _also_ had their ending.

In every legend, in every myth, there was a point where we reached the last page of the story, and the gods found themselves facing their faith, their ultimate ending.

One of them was known as Ragnarök.

Midgardian books spoke of Ragnarök as a series of future events, a great battle foretold, a sequence of natural disasters and submersion of the world in water, after which the world would resurface anew.

Ragnarök was, quite simply, the breaking of something bigger… and new creation.

And so it came. Not in a way people imagined it. And most certainly not in a place one would expect the Twilight of the gods to arrive. The moment arrived in the 21st century – an era of Midgard filled with paradox and imbalance.

It arrived like the sound of breaking ice, cutting the silence, music and the noise of the world so unaware of what lurked behind.

Loki Laufeyson.

Driven by retribution, fueled by burning guilt and a past too painful to forget - he lied, killed, threatened and sinned.

He betrayed Thanos. The mercenary army promised to the god of lies was taken from him the very moment Thanos found out what Trickster did. The cursed children that waited just beyond the border of two worlds were ordered to retreat.

The pact was broken.

Loki filled himself with enough anger to rip the roots of Yggdrasil out of the very foundations of the universe, filled himself with malice that changed him, inside and out. Hatred, burning hatred. More than Odin, more than Thor, more than Laufey or Thanos, Loki hated _himself_.

Deep down, he despised what he has become, what vengeance and loss turned him into.

Loki clothed himself in his armor and placed the sharp horns on his noble head, leaving a trail of darkness everywhere he went.

He dragged a sobbing Jane Foster in by her hair and threw her next to bewildered Marc Farrow. He beckoned Erik Selvig softly, telling him to bring him the Tesseract. Like a desirous slave, quick to obey his master, Erik Selvig brought him the Cube. Loki took it from his arms.

Before the older man could move back, Loki swung the blunt side of the scepter, aiming it in Erik's stomach. The man fell. Loki beat him with it repeatedly, until the dominating enchantment and the blue glow in his eyes was not banished out of his system.

Jane screamed.

His eyes became grey once again, his mind returned to him, and Erik Selvig was his own master. He rolled on his back, coughing and grunting. Jane was by his side immediately, her sad face the only familiar shine in the dark that enveloped the mind of this unfortunate man. They left the abandoned, unfinished building.

It was early afternoon when Loki arrived in the city center.

What occurred after that was a blur.

As much as Loki was a theatrical man, as much as relished the mystery that wrapped itself around him, this time he decided he had _neither_ will _nor_ patience to put on a show.

He wanted them to run, to fear him. To kneel.

And so, when the god of lies attacked, there was little drama. It felt more like a wave of dark, cold water, after whose impact the city was left deserted, its inhabitants hiding in silent shock. Unmoving. Waiting to be saved.

By the time Avengers arrived, the sun was setting down; none of its shine pierced the dark clouds. Smoke was rising from the burned buildings and thick fog wrapped its misty arms around frozen trees.

It was frightening how the day changed - it started like a fresh breeze of early spring; warm, bright and inviting. Now, mist flew out between dry lips. Every puddle, every tear, every drop of water froze under the power of a Jötunn.

He stood, looking at the chaos he unleashed, his eyes unfeeling, his face without expression.

Combining the power of the Casket of Ancient Winters with the power of the Tesseract, Loki made good on his promise, and plunged an entire city into dark ice, all in _one_ fatal afternoon.

He remained like that until a single boom of thunder echoed from the distant horizon. A slash of silver lightning flashed behind the greyness.

The sky was stirring. The scream was _heard_.

Loki gazed in the darkening sky above his head, whispering through his teeth 'You will watch this, old man.' He swallowed; his irises black 'You _will_ watch this.'

The coldness was unbearable.

…

Asgard.

The sky was darker than usual. The air was tight. The stars were gone.

A realm robbed of its two remaining princes, now lingered in shadow and worry. And even though birds chirped, flowers bloomed and wind blew, the Aesir fell into silence.

After centuries of shining and glinting, the colorful cope of heaven above the golden realm has fallen into dismal shadow.

A shadow Aesir remembered seeing only once before.

The golden palace was no longer golden. Its glittery yellow shimmer now turned a darker shade – a tristful bronze. The gates of the gardens were closed, the maids stopped their work, the incense was not burning.

The flags were unmoving.

Queen Frigga sat in a room. It was a room smaller than other chambers that formed the Royal Palace. It was not a grand hall, not the banqueting hall, not the Weapons vault, or any other chamber frequented by Aesir.

_This_ room was no longer occupied.

It waited in the darkness of drawn curtains; filled with items carved out of most expensive wood, with beds clad in royal blue linen and soft silk pillows, where echoes could still be heard – echoes of the time long ago, of warm afternoons, echoes that ringed with clear innocence, of life that never heard of pain or suffering.

It once belonged to three boys. Three shining stars each reflected like most precious gem inside their mother's eyes.

Frigga wiped her cheeks, lying on one of the three small beds, the lush fabric of her golden dress wrinkled, spread over the rest of the small bed.

This bed belonged to the one she missed terribly. The one she felt was farther away from her than any of the three sons. The one whose sanity and reason were ripped, the one who Frigga feared will never embrace his mother like he used to.

As another wave of unbearable anxiety and pain welled up inside her, Frigga pressed her face to the item she gripped in her fair hands.

It was a small emerald green cape that used to belong to a boy called Loki, who loved to run after his older brother. It was as soft as the day her son wore it, still smelling sweetly. Gentle even after so many centuries.

He was such a good child.

So calm, so silent, obedient and kind. He loved his mother, and respected his father.

_Where did we go wrong?_

Of course she knew the answer, but for some reason – asking the question over and over blocked guilt from returning to her, from attacking her in the lonely hours of the night, when she was too vacant to wake her husband, too miserable to crawl in his embrace.

Frigga loved Odin. Odin loved Frigga. This alone was true. Aesir knew it, Nine realms knew it. Frigga and Odin themselves knew it.

But the _blame, _the anger she sensed building inside her because of what the love of her immortal life did to Loki, was extremely difficult to ignore.

And now she lay here, in the room where Thor, Baldr and Loki used to play, where everything she once thought could never disappear was now gone – either in body, or spirit… or both.

Hemidall's voice was clear, his words hauntingly honest.

'I fear, my Queen.' He said to her. 'I fear for Midgard.'

And then he said no more.

…

'No! NO! _STOP!_'

Thor was falling apart.

Steve and Tony held him back as he tore, roaring at his brother in shock and anger.

They were standing on the main road. Cars were abandoned by fleeing people, some of them smoking, some turned over.

Glass was broken, walls were shattered.

The god of thunder did not expect this; he never dreamed Loki would make good on his promise, he never dreamed his brother would_ do _this.

_How did he find her? When?_

Thousands of questions invaded his mind.

The urge to protect Jane burst inside him the moment he saw her, curled beneath Loki's feet; bruised, starved and shaking. The tip of the scepter was placed on her thin neck, pressing into her pale flesh. Blood threatened to flow at any second.

He tightened like a string when he saw her, the primal urge pulsed through his mind and body– an urge to smash the hammer into Loki and sweep Jane into his arms.

He reacted like an animal, and so his friends held him back when he could not do that himself.

Silence fell on the rest of the Avengers, and they looked at each other in broken desperation, not knowing what to do, how to act.

Bruce Banner was trapped inside the green rage monster, breathing hard as he observed the scene before him, with enormous fists and hunched muscled back, glistening in sheen of hot sweat, the raspy rumble of his animalistic growl the only sound breaking the pin-dropping silence.

Steve was limping, the patriotic colors upon his shield scratched completely, his face bloody. He held Thor's right arm, while Tony's iron fists held his left.

Natasha was unconscious, her hair drenched in crimson. She lay limp after Loki lifted her by her throat and threw her against a wall during the fight.

Hawkeye's usual cold expression was concerned as he dragged Natasha from the battle field, laying her head into his lap, inspecting her wound.

Tony's helmet was missing, his lip broken and hair dusty, the twinkle in his eye was gone when he stepped forward after both him and Steve judged Thor has calmed down enough they could let him go.

Loki smiled, a ragged exhale escaping him as he breathed hard, his chest rising, wild emotions pumping through his entire being.

He lifted one black eyebrows, regarding Thor and the rest of the Avengers with an air of regal impatience.

'_Stay close._' Steve whispered to Tony 'Don't do _anything_.'

Stark looked at him, his brown knitted. He nodded.

Next to shaking Jane and towering Loki was a group of people. Among them was Erik Selvig, a badly beaten man with blond hair, several SHIELD agents, an elder couple and a small boy.

They stood, huddled together. Nothing held them, but judging by their shaking bodies and fearful, panic-filled faces, Thor knew Loki placed some sort of spell on them.

Suddenly, the god of lies spoke. His low masculine tone reached each Avenger, and other unfortunate people who witnessed the dark scene.

'Am I not _merciful_, Thor?'

Immediately, Thor roared incoherently at his brother, angry beyond words. Then he took another step forward and pointed with his hammer

'Have you any idea what you've done!? _Can you not see_ _what you are doing, Loki!?'_

'Am I. Not. Merciful?' This time, Loki voice rose, his face twitching dangerously, fury brewing like a storm in the distance, his knuckles turning white as they gripped the scepter harder, pushing it more into Jane's neck.

Jane whimpered, tears streaming down her face.

'I let you look at her,' Loki gazed down at Jane 'I let you _talk_ to her for the last time.'

'What-'

'I let _both of you_ say your goodbyes.'

'Loki, I _beg_ you-' Thor's mouth closed in the middle of his sentence, tears filling his bright, blue eyes.

'So, what will it be?' Loki continued, his voice dangerously light. 'Your _friend_ Erik Selvig, the rest of the members of your _rotten_ organization and _all_ _these'_ The Lie-smith regarded Marc with disgust '_innocent_ civilians who count on your help, my dear _brother_...'

Loki gripped Jane's hair in his free hand, smiling cruelly down at her terrified expression. 'Or Jane Foster.'

The Trickster stood before them, _in flesh_. Thor's voice was breaking as he gazed at his brother 'Loki, what are you-'

'_Choose!_ I will make you _choose, you thick-witted idiot!_' Loki snapped, his expression warped by rage, his hands balled into fists.

Thor looked around himself in despair, not believing what was happening.

_Jane was supposed to be safe. Away. Far away from this place._

'You will watch me murder the ones you did not pick. You will only be able to sit back and do _nothing_. And then, when you _truly_ understand the depth of your sins…' Loki's lips quivered as his voice rose 'When you are unable to discern night from day, I will _fulfill_ that which I intended to the moment I stepped on this _cursed_ planet! I will kill you, Thor. I _will_ kill you.'

Someone moved behind Thor. The Hulk shifted, snarling.

'Ohh,' Loki laughed 'Don't you even _attempt_-' He snapped his gaze to Stark and Rogers who looked ready to jump into action '-to interfere because then Thor will lose his privilege to choose and I _will_ kill them _all_. That is a promise.'

'Let them go.' Thor said in defeat 'This is between you and me.'

'Is it, now?' He hissed, narrowing his eyes. '_Choose_.'

'T-Thor-' Jane yelped. Loki almost pulled her hair out her scalp.

'No!' Thor said, taking a step forwards, his huge arms outstretched, longing for her touch. The Hulk growled loudly, and Steve turned and caught his wild eyes with his, telling him to be still.

Tony looked around in desperation, searching in panic for Clint. Clint and Natasha were nowhere to be seen.

Steve spoke to Thor's ear hurriedly. Thor never heard a word of it.

'Soul for a soul.' Loki pulled Jane, revealing the arch of her neck and tilting the razor sharp edge of the scepter.

'Thor!' Jane sobbed, her dainty hands holding Loki's armor clad forearm.

'Loki!' Thor yelled in panic, now shaking 'Darcy would _never_ forgive you if you killed Jane!'

He looked at the distance, whispering slowly 'You will not utter her name.'

'_Listen_ to me, for Odin's sake, Darcy is aliv-'

'SILENCE!'

Blood welled up.

More screams, more desperate voices echoed across this maze of a city, until every single man went still as a frozen icicle, looking over Loki's shoulder at something.

Clouds of hot steam flew past their silenced lips.

A voice called _his_ name.

Loki's heart pounded.

The necklace around his neck suddenly felt light, the small snake warmed his frozen chest.

It was the voice from his brightest dreams and darkest nightmares.

He begged his dark mind on his bleeding knees, he _begged_ it – _Let not this voice be another illusion, another game, another lost hope._

His fingers let go of Jane's hair, and she fell to her hands and knees with a soft cry.

Cold wind blew his emerald green cape around his legs as Loki lowered the deadly scepter.

He took a deep breath, and turned.

**AN: The song from the beginning is Love The Way You Lie - Eminem ft. Rihanna. PLEASE REVIEW!**


	35. Chapter 35

**AN: I promised you this one will come sooner :) This chapter was... One of the hardest I ever had to write. I really hope you'll enjoy it! Thank you, thank you, thank you so much for reviewing! **

**This is important. If you can, PLEASE LISTEN TO THE FOLLOWING SONG WHILE READING (I promise you it's much more intense with this masterpiece in the background): **

**Skyrim OST: CD 3: Track 18: Wind Guide You**

**Disclaimer: Everything belongs to marvel.**

* * *

Chapter 35

_As reason clouds my eyes, with splendor fading,_  
_Illusions of the sunlight,_  
_And the reflection of a lie will keep me waiting,_  
_Love gone for so long._

_Who I am from the start,_  
_Take me home to my heart,_  
_Let me go and I will run,_  
_I will not be silenced._

_There's a light, there's the sun,_  
_Taking all the shattered ones._  
_To the place we belong,_  
_And his love will conquer._

* * *

The deafening noise of the war drum, drumming in frenzy from the center of his chest, traveling through each string-like, tightened nerve, across coiled muscles, never-stopping cold blood, underneath his unbreakable bones and never-aging skin, vibrating across the length of his mighty body – that terrible drum of insanity, of madness, of that darkest part of him… All of it turned to a steady heart-beat of the man lying in a dark pit, _utterly_ unprepared for a sudden burst of blinding light that appeared before him.

The moment Loki Laufeyson turned, he felt as though the ground was snatched from beneath his feet, the blood-drenched fingers that curled for months around the deadly scepter loosened – and it clanged to the frozen ground, the blue gem in its razor tip instantly dimming in its poisonous glow once separated from the clutches of its master.

The frozen wind was blowing, clearing the rising smoke from his line of sight, and presenting _her_ – running with an evident limp, with uncombed hair and a distraught expression on her beautiful face. She was scared, searching. Wind guided her, pushed her forward, in her dark clothes and an over-sized coat, with frost-bitten knuckles and deathly-pale skin.

Only her lips, in complete contrast with the rest of her black and white self, were ripe and red.

She welled up from nowhere, a pale vision against the blue and the dark grey ice that covered the city that never slept.

Loki stared at her approaching figure, not believing his eyes.

The Trickster warned his beating heart not to be so quick to race.

_She is nothing more than illusion, a misty memory. _

_Your mind is playing tricks on _you_, Trickster. _

She_ is the bonds you have chained yourself to. _

_You, Loki. You did it._

Then, she stopped, still far away from him.

To him, she seemed so much smaller then when he last saw her, paler, more tired, engulfed inside those dark mismatched garments that were probably not her own.

Even from this distance, he saw a small white piece of gauze attached to the side of her neck, to the spot where the bullet grazed her all those months ago, the spot that in that moment seemed like it will never cease bleeding and no magical fingers will ever sew it together.

Silence and shock separated them, only coldness daring to step onto the no man's land between Loki Laufeyson and Darcy Lewis.

_Something fluttered beneath his fingers. A small tremor._

For a few moments, Loki did not move.

_'What could you possibly risk on this _lower_ realm?' She asked 'Amongst this lower race?'_

With a practiced move of his pale palms and long fingers, he extracted the glowing blue Cube, never breaking the nearly palpable bond made by brown and green.

Magically, it bloomed inside his fist. Not sparing the most powerful weapon in the universe one fleeting glance, Loki crouched down and dropped the Tesseract next to the Scepter as though it was nothing more than a mere trinket.

The horned helmet came next, clanking on the floor loudly as he removed it from his raven head.

The movement was the white flag of his defeat, _and_ his victory.

Nothing existed, _absolutely_ _nothing_ but her.

His breathing was ragged, his vision blurry, mask of anger and deceit and lies _melting_ underneath her burning light as he stepped towards her, with shaking legs and an expression that seemed to be on the verge of breaking.

Green cape fluttered behind him, just like on the night he fell from the edge of the universe into dark desert sand and into her loneliness.

Darcy was planted on her spot, trembling for head to toe, shivering against the wind, and yet – welcoming it; because she knew who the coldness forged in its biting embrace, who ice and frost and snow belonged to. Who _she_ belonged to.

Him. Only him.

She tried to move, but could not. She simply stretched her arms in front of herself, her wrists shaking, yearning for what she was denied _so many months_.

And no one mattered, not one single person watching their tragedy_ and _their triumph.

She found him.

Loki felt his chest tighten; heart beating rapidly, cold blood turning hot at the sight of her.

Longing and expectation broke through, growing wings and fluttering darkly behind his emerald eyes.

As his walk turned into a run, Loki's hands moved to his hair and he gripped it inside his fists, choking a dry sob only she could hear.

The handsome lines of his face changed, fighting against the barrier he was forced to build while she was gone.

And so, Loki reached her before she could inhale, and once his arms found hers, he crushed Darcy against him, his tall body hunching like a dark shadow over her, taking the very breath out of her with the strength of his embrace.

Darcy Lewis was completely numb as she stared unblinkingly over his shoulder at the dark sky above her, only mouthing his name for she was unable to utter it out loud.

His smell, his touch – Darcy surrendered to him completely. God, she missed it. She _missed_ him.

Soon, Loki sunk to his knees, bringing her with him, his back shaking as he buried his face into her neck, breathing in, breathing out, wrapping his armor clad arms around her, pressing her closer, wishing to swallow her soft body with his own hard one.

Not a word was shared.

Darcy soon followed him to the cold ground on skinned knees.

His breathing was all she could hear until he managed to rasp into her hair 'Close your eyes.'

Darcy thought her heart might leap out of her mouth when she heard his voice. Immediately, she did as she was told, burying her head in his neck, gripping his shoulders even tighter, clenching the black leather with the tips of her frozen fingers.

In the matter of a few seconds, they were gone.

The street fell into even tighter silence. Shocked eyes of the Avengers observed the spot that was only seconds ago very much occupied.

The Tesseract, the Scepter and the horned helmet were left in front of them, abandoned, as though they never were the main tool for the wrath of god.

…

The terrible noise and wind and magic stopped.

The dusty concrete floor of the abandoned building in New York appeared beneath them.

The night approached, full moon rising in the distance, a yellow guardian illuminating the frozen city.

Once Loki opened his eyes - he saw it.

Much like in his dreams, it brushed against his cheek, so dark, so soft and so lovely – Darcy's hair.

Still on her knees, she buried her face deeply into his neck, eyes closed, arms wrapped tightly around his middle – afraid to let go.

Suddenly frozen, Loki stared down at her, his arms limp by his sides, eyes jumping from the bandaged wound on her neck, to the chocolate locks that fell around her shoulders.

_How was he supposed to handle everything in that moment? How? When his world fell apart, only to build itself back behind his back._

_ Then he turned and faced it._

_Fear. Yes, fear._

_No, not just fear; dread and worst trepidation. _

_So many times, he has been deceived. By his father, his brother, his kin. Even his dreams and vision played with him in the cruelest of all fashions - making him believe he saw Darcy; in the streets, in his dreams. _

_Was this another trick? Another relentless, hardhearted illusion he was forced to endure?_

_Has his own reason finally abandoned him? If so – was this what sweet relief of utter oblivion felt like?_

_Did he just crush a memory against his own body? Did he follow a shadow out of the battlefield, thinking it was her? _

'Loki?' She said softly. The very taste of his name upon her lips seemed so foreign after many months.

Her voice reached him.

Every shred of doubt that existed inside him was banished out of his mind.

He said nothing. His breathing was hard and ragged. Tears were streaming down his face, lost expression upon his handsome face making Darcy feel like someone pushed her over a waterfall and she couldn't catch onto anything but water that escaped between her fingers.

He seemed taller to her, broader, darker, eyes appeared sunken, his dark hair even longer, white lips even thinner. Shadows played on his cheekbones, his temples and forehead. His sinewy throat was long and elegant, once smooth, deep voice now appeared guttural and low.

'Loki…' Darcy cracked a smile, her hands gripped his shoulders, and she leaned closer, whispering '_It's me._'

The god of mischief looked down at her, emerald irises glistening as crystal tears streamed down his pale cheeks.

So many tears.

'It's me.' She smiled brokenly '_Lady Darcy._'

Nothing. Not a blink.

Despair now appeared in her brown eyes. Her voice was tired as she shook his shoulders softly, trying to break him from his trance 'Don't you remember me?'

Nothing.

Darcy felt her heart breaking in two as she leaned away from him, still no her knees.

_Only moments ago you held me._

He did not move.

Wind blew from the unfinished walls around them.

'I l-lost my necklace, Loki.' Her voice shook. Darcy placed her fingers over her lips. 'I am s-so sorry.'

With the speed only gods held inside their immortal bodies, Loki leaned towards her, caught her face in his bloody hands, and guided her lips to his own hungry mouth.

The force with which he crushed their mouths together made Darcy stumble, only to lean completely onto him, gratefully hugging him, each move of her body against his a mute _thank you. Thank you for saving me. _

Darcy moaned into the kiss; it was a moan of such longing it made Loki shiver.

Tears mingled on their pressed cheeks as they both breathed hard. Loki dipped his head lower, feasting upon that which was taken from him. And kept from him.

He then stood up to his full height, bringing her body with him and lowering Darcy on her own two feet.

Raw need pulsed between them. Passion in which he enveloped her grew faster.

Close to his lips, parted were her own as she greedily gulped the air she needed, the overwhelming emotions not wishing to settle just yet.

Then he spoke.

'I could have sworn-' He gritted through his teeth, squeezing his eyes as he gripped her face 'I could have _sworn by this blood that runs through my veins_, I would _never_ see your face again…'

A trembling, wide smile broke across her visage. Darcy's palms enclosed gently over his own hands that cupped her face.

Another firestorm of kisses was showered on her cheeks, her forehead, the top of her nose and each eyelid as he hunched lower.

Moon shined through the opening in the wall, illuminating the carved metal on Loki's breast plate. Her fingertips shakily touched the small engraved snake upon his dirty armor.

He caught her small hand, trapping it inside his large one.

After such a long time, Loki smiled.

The charming grin was a breeze of spring air upon his winter-marked face.

It warmed her.

Giving the tips of her fingers that only moments ago stroked his armor a chaste kiss, he reached around his neck for what belonged to Darcy Lewis.

The Bifröst necklace glowed in the darkness of the empty room, warmer and clearer than ever before.

'It was _never_ lost, Darcy.' He placed it around her neck, giving the bandaged side of it a tender kiss. Remaining there, he whispered '_Never._'

**AN: The song from the beginning is Trading Yesterday - Shattered. I hope you liked it! Please REVIEW! :) :)**


	36. Chapter 36

**Lovelies... You really thought the story was over!? Oh, no... we have a few more chapters to go :) THANK YOU TO EVERYONE WHO REVIEWED!**

**I sincerely hope you'll like this chapter. All I'm going to say is... Their situation is quite complicated, and it will take some time for Loki and Darcy to get back on their feet. I promise there will be a happy ending. ****OKAY, so this one is EXTRA long and I sincerely hope you'll enjoy it. My tests are now DONE, so I have more time to write! I'm sorry if this was too angsty, but we can't expect everything to be peaches and cream immediately after their reunion.  
**

**I listened to the song thats RIGHT DOWN THERE: Imagine Dragons - Bleeding out (SO GOOD!)**

**and My love - Sia (the vocal AND instrumental versions - you can find them on you tube! :D) **

**Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Marvel.**

* * *

Chapter 36

_I'm bleeding out,_

_So if the last thing that I do,_

_Is to bring you down,_

_I'll bleed out for you._

_So I bare my skin,_

_And I count my sins,_

_And I close my eyes,_

_And I take it in._

_And I'm bleeding out,_

_I'm bleeding out for you._

_When the day has come,_

_That I've lost my way around,_

_And the seasons stop and hide beneath the ground,_

_When the sky turns gray,_

_And everything is screaming,_

_I will reach inside,_

_Just to find my heart is beating._

_You tell me to hold on,_

_Oh you tell me to hold on,_

_But innocence is gone,_

_And what was right is wrong._

_When the hour is nigh,_

_And hopelessness is sinking in,_

_And the wolves all cry,_

_To fill the night with hollering._

_When your eyes are red,_

_And emptiness is all you know,_

_With the darkness fed,_

_I will be your scarecrow._

* * *

To Darcy, time lost its meaning, and one night in New York stretched like a lifetime in that silent, abandoned building. Not one of them slept that night, neither him nor her moved from one another. Almost no words were shared as they sat together in the cold corner... not until they looked at each other and Darcy voiced her humble wish.

The small town was sleeping when they arrived. Nestled comfortably in the New Mexico desert, it dreamed, unaware of two people returning to the glass house on the edge of the Puente Antiguo, on their tiptoes, with shushed voices and bowed heads.

Soundlessly, they stepped upon the soft desert sand, walking next to each other, him supporting her with a firm arm around her shoulders.

Months passed since they last stood in front of it. Months of sun, wind and thunder, months spent far away from it, separated, alone.

At first glance, everything appeared the same. But really, _it wasn't_.

The marks of that fatal last night Loki and Darcy spent together on Earth were still visible upon its fragile surface. The glass on the back entrance was shattered, and grains of sand fell inside, scattered across the marble floors. Shards of glass broken by bullets were half buried in front, dust covered the interior, but other than that, everything was found frozen, just as it was left.

Wind was beating a torn piece of plastic sheet one of the local people fixed upon the broken part of the glass wall, so it was at least shielded a bit from the cruel wasteland behind it. A note for Erik Selvig, Jane Foster and Darcy Lewis was written upon a crumpled piece of paper and glued to the side of the undamaged glass wall, a note screaming with inquiries about their sudden disappearance.

No words were shared as Darcy and Loki walked inside.

She went in first; he followed like a shadow.

Beaten, tired and bruised, both of them stood in the cold living room, immersed in tense silence. The darkness that cloaked the once bright, clean rooms was devastating for the mortal woman, and she felt that constant throb of pain returning to her leg.

She felt her throat constrict when her brown gaze fell upon the broken table in the corner of the room, the one Loki broke during their first big fight, and a pile of dust-covered books near the creamy white sofa that still held that large stain of Loki's blood she was unable to wash off.

Sniffing a bit, Darcy moved forward, stepping over debris of the broken bowls for cereals Loki accidentally knocked down with his cape when they were running away, and closer to the forgotten pile of her beloved books.

With one white hand, Darcy took a firm hold on the aging volume on the top and lifted it to her face. Blowing gently onto the firm surface, the dust and sand and dirt flew away, only to reveal a familiar cover.

'_Myth and Legends from Around the World' by Anneka Sunden_

Once she read the title, a large number of images from the past few months poured into her unprepared mind. The book fell from her trembling fingers, landing with a thud on the floor and Darcy immediately took hold onto the small Bifröst necklace that rested on her breast.

Pain filled her. Together with a certain foreboding.

_So much questions… So much unanswered questions._

Darcy wrapped the dark coat tighter around her shuddering body, closing her eyes as she felt him walking across the broken porcelain, reaching her in mere seconds, and eventually wrapping his arms around her, bumping her back to his armored chest.

His breathing was deep. Leaning down to her ear, he whispered 'We can go somewhere else if you-'

With an inhuman surge of need to be comforted, she turned in his arms and embraced him so tightly around his middle, she looked like she was clinging onto him for dear life. His words were cut from his throat when Darcy silenced him with a bone-crushing hug.

He breathed in the scent of her hair, one raven tress falling limp to the side of his handsome face, brushing against her own cheek.

Loki placed one spidery hand across the small of her back, rubbing it softly as he urged her to look at him 'Darcy-'

She buried her face deeper into his chest, refusing to look up.

'_Darcy_.' He shook her gently.

'Don't talk.' She whispered into his chest, her hot cheek on his freezing armor '_Please_, don't talk.'

Heaviness returned to the center of his chest. The unparalleled happiness of their reunion was slowly falling into premature doubt.

_What did they expect? That after narrowly escaping that deep fall, they will meet again and everything will be like it was before? That they will hug and kiss and make love and everything will be alright? No, the war was not over. _

_Not for Darcy, not for Loki._

'You know they will come looking for me, sooner or later.'

A broken cry was all he heard as she sharply broke their embrace, supporting her own devastated face in her palms as she walked from him and to the nearest wall.

There, she slid down to the dirty floor.

Her own pain was silent.

Darcy Lewis had a feeling. A terrible, terrible feeling something went wrong while she was gone. After waking up in the hospital, after finding herself on the other end of the planet, wrapped in white sheets, tubes sticking out of her arms, next to a window that presented her sleepy eyes with snow-covered mountains; after learning she nearly bled to death in _his_ arms, and was now separated from him, kept inside the cold clinic, surrounded by people she did not know, who spoke language she did not understand.

_Where is Loki?_ She asked herself for weeks, remembering everything. _Am I dreaming?_

No one answered her broken pleas. No one said anything. Until, one day, she overheard a conversation between her doctor and the person on the other end of the telephone line. This time, her doctor, Matthias Béringer spoke English, and addressed the man he was speaking to with a familiar name.

_Agent Coulson._

It didn't take long for Darcy to put the loose ends together and realize SHIELD was the one who was keeping her there. A plethora of emotions filled her, its shades varying from icy anger to wrenching anxiousness.

Since that day, the escape plan was all she could think of. Until one night, Darcy stole some clothes, food and money and sneaked out of the modern hospital. Since the moment she stepped on the snow-covered ground, she was on the run, and it took them until next morning to realize she was gone. By then, she has already reached the center of Zürich, and paid a taxi to take her to the airport. Upon her arrival on the Zürich airport, she bought the tickets for the first available flight to America.

_New York._

It was in those three hours of waiting for her plane that she began to feel someone was following her. Constantly behind her, listening to her every breath.

The long flight from Switzerland to America seemed never-ending, as she gazed down at the darkening clouds beneath her, caught between daylight and eternal night above her.

Darcy simply bundled herself in the clothes she stole from the clinic, silently gazing up through a small airplane window into the universe above her. On this height it seemed the edge of the ozone kissed the tail of the speeding aircraft, while in reality – desolate _miles_ separated the plane from the darkness of the space, and stars, and distant planets.

_Asgard…_

The moment she landed, there was no need to look behind. She ran. Her own picture shining from one of the flat TV screens on her terminal was a clear enough warning for her wounded body to just _escape_ from there.

Whether it was by skill or sheer luck smiling down upon her, Darcy managed to escape the men who chased her, men dressed like SHIELD agents, men who worked for SHIELD; men Darcy knew she refused to make any sort of contact with. As far as she was concerned, they were her own demons.

She ran, hid, and eventually slept in one of the crowded terminals in the airport, escaping from them by simply hiding in the last place they could think of – the very airport they desired to chase her from.

New York was not a foreign place to Darcy.

On the contrary, it was on its bustling, rushing streets that she grew up, went to school, made friendships, broken them, fell in love for the first time … It was New York. A place where she thought she lived _until_ she met Jane Foster.

When she woke up, the terminal was nearly completely empty, and to the unknowing mind, she looked like any other person waiting in between flights.

The same afternoon, news reached everyone quickly, hushing down rivers of people on the large terminal as every flat screen in every corner rolled the blood-curdling film. The footage from the streets of New York, of her own city, was as shaky and dark as a scene from any apocalyptic film. This excitement, fear, this _indescribable_ longing she felt bottling inside her chest for so many months threatened to explode when the camera abruptly turned to a dark, cloaked form Darcy recognized as the man she needed.

Not for one second were her thoughts away from him. So many questions and doubts wished to overthrow Loki from her head, doubt wished to settle itself around the image of the god of mischief Darcy treasured. But she would never let it happen.

Never, not even _now_, when they were together in the very spot where they began.

_Two souls, lost and forgotten…_

Her glasses were missing, all her possessions were gone, her books lay ruined and her fears awakened.

She was naked before him, in every sense. The crack in the wall was still present, fresh and falling apart, like the second Loki's fist collided with it that night when their lips first met, in this spot where Darcy sat, on to this very wall Darcy was leaning on.

Loki moved silently to her, his emerald cape dragging behind him as he fell on his knees before her. Leaning forward, he took her face gently to his palms, and like a dark guardian, towered over her, a vision of a protective mountain watching over the forest at the foot of its powerful form. His green eyes caught her own, pouring everything into them with a heavy heart. Darcy took a deep breath, and listened.

'I have- ..._Gods_, I have sinned.' He whispered to her, making Darcy inhale sharply as a sea of emotion shifted on his face 'You _died_. I-I held you, I felt you fading away. I did. And I…' He bowed his head down.

Darcy looked at him like she saw him for the first time, her pale face cradled gently inside his large hands.

'When you were injured that night, I-' His fists shook as he removed them from her face, and curled them tightly to stop himself from doing something he might regret.

The words simply tumbled, as he spat them out to the floor, his head bowed down in a sick mixture of shame and lingering anger.

'I went blind with rage and hatred and desire for vengeance. I captured numerous SHIELD agents, threw them under my control. I physically attacked one of them, I beat him until he could not stand, together with that b-bastard that touched you.' The anger was returning, making his voice shake 'I _manipulated_ Selvig, I _captured_ Jane, I-I killed-'

Tears were streaming down Darcy's cheeks as she listened to him, not blinking, biting her bottom lip until it bled heavily into her silent mouth.

'I killed Fury.' He gritted through his teeth, still staring at the floor '_Killed_. I wanted blood, Darcy. I wiped him from this world. And I do _not_ regret it.'

Darcy sat, trembling, unblinking eyes filling with more tears that leaked out unstoppably, now staring past Loki's shoulder, into nothingness.

'You were gone, and I…' Loki lifted his white face, trying to catch her gaze, murmuring 'I lost myself.'

Bile was visibly speeding on his elegant neck, anticipation and fear now running through his body when he saw her shift. Her gentle palms dragged across the wall behind her as she slowly stood up.

'Darcy-'

Without a word, she walked in the direction of her forgotten bedroom. She removed the black coat as she retreated from his kneeling form, dropping it soundlessly on the creamy sofa. Shadows played on her body as she walked into the dark hallway. She halted. Her small hand reached for the light switch next to the entrance to the bathroom. She clicked it, and the light went on.

Her movements were soft and controlled, but beneath that cold, silent calmness, a storm brewed. Like a ghost, Darcy walked into the bathroom and pushed the door softly behind her, so it was left ajar.

Loki was left alone, kneeling, facing the broken wall, his face expressionless. After a few moments, he too stood up, trying to control his ever-shaking fists.

He walked to the pile of books next to the sofa. Emerald cape rustled behind him as it dragged across the floor. Leaning down, he took a firm hold onto the book Darcy dropped minutes ago. He gazed upon the rugged surface, tracing the golden lettering on the spine with his pale fingertips.

_She hates me._

Sadness that was etched upon the god's face slowly faded as fury took over once more. Tears sprung to his green eyes as he glared at the space around himself and in a surge of violent anger, he threw the book aggressively to the other end of the room. Soon, his fingers found his hair as he pulled at it, wishing to rip it out in utter despair.

Loki stomped forcefully to the bookshelf that still stood in the corner of the room. He yelled out in rage, nearly screaming as he tore the entire bookshelf down. Books flew all over the dirty floor, wood cracked as Loki pushed it in rage.

Numerous books on Norse mythology looked back at him, scattered around the floor in the shadows.

Breathing hard, he walked to the corner of the room where he threw Darcy's book and snatched it once again in his arms. Sinking his nails in the soft surface, he glared at it, bringing it closer to his face.

Magic started to seep from his shaking body, sadness and injustice of his situation making it pulse stronger than ever. Slowly, the book started to freeze, ice enveloped its pages, creeping underneath the _ink_ and the _parchment_ as Loki gritted his teeth, wishing to delete everything that was ever written about him, wishing to erase the cruel being that brought this pain upon him.

_A monster._

As the ice covered the book, Loki sensed it spreading all over him. Blue. The Jötunn origin, that coldest part of him welled up, starting from his fingers. Even in the darkness of the room, his scarlet eyes saw it.

In utter wrath, he took the frozen book that was now heavy as a piece of large boulder and threw it in the direction of what was left of the glass wall on the back entrance of the house.

It shattered like a drop of rain hitting a window's ledge.

With a last desperate look at his black fingernails and dark blue skin drawn with lines and circles, Loki fell down on the sofa Darcy laid him down all those months ago.

Refusing to weep, Loki bit the inside of his mouth – but the tears kept falling, down his cheekbones, into his hair, over his skin that was gradually returning to its pale color.

The echo of the truth he voiced to her was still ringing, mingling with the sound of the running water coming from the bathroom.

There was _no_ peace. Not for him, not for her.

…

The water never stopped. Not even after half an hour.

With great tiredness, Loki removed his cape, and just as he was about to unfasten the many buckles on his leather and metal armor, he halted. His fingers let go of the first large buckle as they fell to his sides and he walked to the nearly closed door of the bathroom, black hair falling over his tired eyes.

His body was aching when he pushed the door, his emerald gaze falling over the familiar space where he rescued Darcy from the biting viper.

…

_He ran as fast as he could through the dark hall, quickly reaching the white door of the bathroom that was slightly open, so a streak of golden light radiated from the inside. The door burst open as Loki pushed them with an outstretched arm, his black long hair falling in his eyes._

_'A snake! A freaking snake! Goddamn desert! Freaking Puente Antiguo!'_

…

The steam filled the small bathroom; Loki found it hard to breathe. The second he turned his head to the right, the second his eyes fell upon the fogged glass of the shower bath, a pain he rarely felt filled his lungs.

Darcy was curled in the corner of the wet shower, her bare back pressed against the glass, facing Loki, so everything he saw was a red stain, dripping, seeping down and turning pink. She was shaking, hugging her knees to her chest. Loki watched in shock as Darcy reached with one arm over her shoulder, violently scratching off the stitched the spot where the bullet pierced her just above her heart. The half-healed wound leaked blood, smearing the hot water that tumbled endlessly, drowning her long, dark hair, sticking the silky tresses to her pale skin.

To witness her, like this, stripped down, in her most vulnerable state, bringing harm to herself with her own hands, in a fever… Loki's body moved even before his mind made that decision.

Without a word, he reached at the sliding doors of the shower and pulled it. The moment he did, steam met his distraught face and Darcy turned to look at him.

Her teeth were bared in pain as she curled even tighter, trying to cover herself in her modesty, shying away from his towering, dressed figure.

'_It's all my fault_.' She whispered over the tumbling water, dragging her clenched fingers through her hair, and across her wounds, tearing them open if she pulled too hard 'It's _all_ my fault.'

The look Loki gave her was beyond anything Darcy ever saw – shock, protectiveness, remorse, love.

Releasing a heavy breath through his nostrils, Loki reached for the large towel hanging close by, and stepped into the large shower.

Embarrassed beyond words, hurt and broken, she looked up at him, trembling with sobs. He turned the water off, draped the towel around her, slipped his arms gently around her body, and in the matter of a few seconds, lifted her into his arms.

A need to protect, heal and hold her clouded his senses.

'It's all my fault.' She cried into his shoulder as he carried her out of the steaming bathroom, through the hallway and into her abandoned bedroom.

Breaking all her barriers, she wept into his shoulders, stopping only to take oxygen as she set loose her fears, doubts and pain, everything she felt, he took it, embraced it, comforted her.

When he reached her room, Loki shifted her gently, treating her like a piece of fragile jewelry, and laid her down on the bed.

The sheets were unwashed, the bed unmade.

Then he sat next to her, and whispered to her softly to turn around, shifting the towel so it covered more of her. Crying, she nodded and shifted. Blood was dripping down her back.

'_Oh, Darcy._' The strained plea was all he could release as his shaking fingers stroked the undamaged flesh next to the ripped wound 'What have you done to yourself?'

A small cry was all he got for an answer as he summoned his healing powers, pressed his finger to the opened flesh and blew an icy breath directly onto it. She shivered out of sudden coldness, and a strange sensation of her own skin healing back together. After the wound was closed, and all that was left were chilly tingles, Loki leaned down, lay next to her, and keeping her body close to his, pressed his lips over the healed rip in her fair skin.

Her heart raced like always when he was around, his unique smell overpowered everything as her lungs filled with it.

'I-I would _never _blame you for anything. I could-' She took a deep breath, blinking away the remains of her tears '_never _resent you, Loki. Because I-'

_I love you._

'Shh, don't talk.' He breathed into her neck, wrapping his arms tighter around her still-trembling body.

So, how was it that these blood-stained, deadly hands brought such love, care and tenderness to another? How is it that these guilty hands that inflicted _such_ darkness were able to protect again?

'As long as I am breathing, nothing will bring you pain.' He pressed his lips to her scalp, curling around her like a lion 'My love…' He closed his eyes 'My lady Darcy.'


	37. Chapter 37

**AN: Sorry for the wait, darlings - uni kind of ran all over me. This one gave me a bit of trouble, but I'm really happy with it, I must admit! :D THANK YOU to everyone who reviewed! Oh, and this is really important - there will be a total of 40 chapters of Ink and Parchment! The story is not NEARLY finished, because I think in the next 4 chapters (including this one) lots of other thing will happen and come to light :) I REALLY hope you'll enjoy it!**

**While I wrote this I listened to: Mozart - Lacrimosa (it truly is a masterpiece!)**

**Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Marvel.**

* * *

Chapter 37

_Do you remember your coming down,  
Forced to take sides?  
Your taunted charm and your broken smile,  
Touched me unexpectedly.  
So long, So long you've waited in line.  
Desire is a gift in life.  
So long, So long you've left and arrived,  
It's time for you to stay a while.  
If you chose life,  
You know what the fear is like.  
You welcome addiction,  
This is your kingdom.  
Your fight for power,  
For memories, answers and signs,  
Will bring you through the dark to light,  
Clear and redefined._

* * *

A soft desert breeze blew across the lavender colored sky. Twilight was approaching slowly, a lone messenger, connecting night and day. Darkness fell softly upon the desert. Still, in the distant horizon, shining from the west, warm rays of sunshine caressed the orange sand that surrounded Puente Antiguo.

Jane breathed deeply.

To stand in front of Darcy felt strange.

And even though Thor was near, Erik has recovered and things seemed brighter than they did while she was held captive, Jane still felt like she was on the beginning.

Nearly three days passed since the events in New York. And every morning Jane would wake with a feel of cold razor sharp tip pressed to the thin center of her throat. _It will take time_ - Jane knew this, but she couldn't stop thinking of her friend, of the image of Darcy standing in the middle of the street in Manhattan Loki turned in a deserted, frozen battle-field.

Fear gripped her at the thought of what she was about to do, but she knew it was best if she approached her first.

_Darcy would never run from me..._

Things moved too quickly for Jane's liking; especially after everything that has occurred… They were _all_ so very kind. They all worked so very hard to make Jane feel less afraid and sick than she did. Thor made sure to explain the situation to her, followed closely by agent Coulson and Tony Stark. She even contacted Magnus, explaining to him why she... _left _Tromsø so abruptly. Jane Foster learned the truth even before they sat her down and told her what has transpired during her stay in Scandinavia. She was not ignorant of what happened. She was there, present in the moment Loki broke his deal with whatever devil he was assembled with. She witnessed the moment Thor's brother _snapped_ – it was the moment in which that _thing_ Loki was speaking to conjured a blurry image of a woman's face right in front of the god of lies. Jane recognized her friend. She recognized the hair, the eyes, the lips - it was Darcy.

Everything Thor said to Jane was useless whenever she thought about that moment, when she remembered that loud breathing, that wrath boiling just beneath the thin surface as Thor's brother betrayed the devil, blasting it back from where it came from. He was... so _angry_ when Darcy's image appeared.

Jane felt like she knew more than others.

The memory of Loki's breaking of the deal with the devil made Jane see why he was doing it. Yes, it made her _see_, but not understand.

Jane Foster was unable to understand the amount of pain that drove Loki to do all those things. To enslave an entire planet, to burn it and play with it as if it were nothing more than a toy… it was beyond her. No sane, _controlled_ person would do it, no matter how devastating the heartbreak. And even now, deeds spoke far more loudly than words and only this revelation shined in the darkness that surrounded Jane...

Loki unmade the agreement that was supposed to shape their universe simply because he was provoked with a misty image of Darcy.

It was as clear as daylight – Loki loved her. Desperately.

Thor managed to convince SHIELD and the rest of the Avengers to let him be the first one to break the thick ice. Thor himself said it would be wise to approach both Loki and Darcy as prudently and carefully as possible. Jane insisted to come with him. He never stopped her, for even a person as mighty as Thor felt uneasiness at the thought of facing Darcy.

Jane was terrified of the mere thought of how time may have changed her old friend. Questions such as these brought Jane more and more fear each passing second of her trip to New Mexico. Not even Thor's warm embrace could scare it away, not even the night they spent together, not the kindness of the rest of the Avengers.

_Will I be able to see any trace of that darkness when I face her?_

_You will. _Jane's own mind gave her the answer the moment Darcy walked outside the glass house, wearing a pair of old ripped jeans and a loose black t shirt. Immediately, Jane noticed how Darcy's hair seemed longer, her skin paler, lips redder. She appeared ghostly and cold, but at the same time... _content_ with her present state.

The side of her neck was bandaged. It was visible, even though Darcy tried to cover it with her hair.

Jane could hear Thor's confident footsteps behind her; feel his warm palm across her back as they both walked from the black SUV borrowed by SHIELD and towards the back of the broken house, each step taking them closer to Jane's friend.

Darcy took two steps in the silence of the dusk and then halted in front of them.

She was _alone_.

Narrowing her dark gaze, she gazed deeply at Jane's fearful, shaky form, followed protectively by the god of thunder. Thor carried a golden horned helmet in his left fist, swinging it beside himself as he followed Jane.

'Darc...' Tears sprung to Jane's doe-like eyes as she hurried to embrace Darcy. Taking a large gulp of air, Darcy returned her hug, wrapping her arms softly around Jane.

Jane broke the hug, _'It's so good to see you._'

Darcy gave Jane a small smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. Jane noticed it. Trying to push every concern and question that plagued her aside, Jane stood straighter and gave her friend a warm smile. It may have been warm, but it was as breakable and shaky as a dry leaf in the middle of the gnawing winter's wind.

They were once again enveloped in a pregnant silence.

Thor took a step closer, looking out of place in his leather trousers and sleeveless Asgardian armor. He said nothing. When Darcy looked at him, he averted his eyes to the ground.

'Darcy.' Thor rumbled deeply, bowing his head in greeting as he took a step closer, wishing to hug her. The moment his enormous body came closer, Darcy turned her head, staring to the ground as she rejected any touch from the god of thunder.

'_Hello, Thor._' She whispered without emotion, hugging her arms as a gush of desert wind blew suddenly, ruffling their hair, moving the sand below and the clouds above.

Without a word, Thor returned to his spot next to Jane, his eyebrows meeting in the middle and one large palm tightening around one horn of Loki's heavy helmet that he held.

'Why are you here?' Darcy asked with a smile that was anything but happy.

'Darcy-' Jane breathed, letting her arms fall to her sides in exhaustion 'I am_ so sorry _I left_._' Tears gathered in the corners of her doe-like eyes.

Licking her dry lips, Darcy let out a small laugh – so hushed, so tight, it poured even more uncertainty inside Jane.

'Don't apologize, Jane.'

'I have to-' Her soft features were suddenly warped by sadness, her bottom lip shook violently 'I am – I am so sorry for leaving you, for not calling-'

Darcy took a step closer, wishing to hug her, but Thor already had his huge arm wrapped around her shaking shoulders.

'Where is he, Darcy?'

A small flame lit behind Darcy's dark eyes when the question reached her. Now gazing coldly, _carefully_ at both him and the weeping Jane, Darcy refused to answer.

'Loki _must_ return with me.' Thor's voice grew hard as he skipped right to the point, surprising Darcy.

'He must return to his family. He belongs in Asgard as well as the Tesseract and everything that has fallen on Midgardian realm during last year.'

The tone of Thor's voice was uncomfortable and unlike anything Darcy ever heard.

'_Nothing_ out of Asgard belongs in this realm.' Thor continued. At times, his blue eyes appeared peaceable, even _pleading_ despite his tone ' Humans are not yet fit to deal with such powerful things. You felt it on your own skin, Darcy.'

'Does that include _you_?' She asked slowly. The sky darkened storm clouds approached as the wind grew stronger.

'_What?_'

The storm was brewing.

'You say _nothing_ out of Asgard belongs here. What about you?'

Thor snapped his eyes to Darcy's face when she said it, more on edge than he ever was.

'It seems to me you are free to come here whenever you want, right? Why shouldn't _he_ be treated in the same way?'

His tone lowered 'I am not the one who has committed a crime, Darcy.'

He looked like he swallowed molten lead. The hand that held Loki's helmet suddenly got sweaty. 'Loki must face _justice_.'

When Thor looked up, Darcy grew even paler than before, but her expression was on fire. Anger knotted her eyebrows as she bared her teeth; the terrifying changes of her expression made Jane take a step back.

'And what _justice_ will it be?' Bitterness laced her every word 'Will they _impale_ him on frozen icicles the second he returns?' Darcy then laughed 'Or maybe your father will chain him on that rock again, lure out that snake to torture him more?'

Jane placed her palm over her mouth, her wet eyes shining as a fresh wave of tears arrived.

'_Be careful_, Darcy.' Thor removed his arm from around Jane and took the helmet in his both hands, his knuckles white 'You are a friend of mine, but I will _not_ tolerate such words about our father.'

'You know as well as I do, _Odinson_, he is not Loki's father.'

'Darcy-' Jane's tone was strained and pleading.

'I see you picked something from my brother.' Thor chuckled, pushed by Darcy's biting words 'Quite an influential man when you spend some time with him, isn't he?'

Darcy hissed, taking a step closer. 'The only reason my taser is not sticking from the side of your neck, Thor, is because Jane is my friend and I would _hate_ to see her taking you to the hospital one more time.'

Thor heaved a great sigh, completely unaffected by her threat.

'Darcy, if you knew what happened during your absence you would not be defend-'

'Oh, you think I'm oblivious to what happened!?' Tears longed to touch her cheeks, but she held them in 'Why the shocked faces?' One bitter laugh 'You think he kept the truth _away_ from me!?'

Jane and Thor were completely silent.

'He never lied to me.' Darcy's eyelids fluttered as she turned her gaze briefly over her shoulder and in the direction of the house 'You can _try_ catching him, but be sure of one thing…' She looked back at the couple standing in front of her '… he won't be running from you alone.'

'There is no running, Darcy!' Thor growled 'He will be brought to Asgard – do not forget that. Once he faces father, he _will_ face justice-'

Her laughter broke his sentence. Jane stared at her friend with open mouth.

'_Justice!_ There is _no_ justice in this universe, Thor! There is _no_ right or wrong, there _are_ _no_ villains or heroes. Nothing is ever black and white… And that includes _him_.' Darcy then narrowed her eyes 'You should remember that well if you want to sit upon that beloved throne of yours.'

Thor regarded her carefully 'You've grown poisonous since I last talked to you, Darcy.'

Rage lit inside the dark haired woman. 'Don't make me call him.' Darcy threatened lowly 'I _begged_ him to let me speak to the two of you alone. _Don't_ make me call his name.'

'He listens to _no one_, Darcy.' Thor said coldly, placing the helmet onto the dry desert ground 'Remember that.'

The conversation was over, finally finished with tears and seething anger from both sides.

With a delicate move of her gentle hand, Jane took Thor by the shoulder and whispered something to him. With the last glance at Darcy's angry face and an air of hostility that suddenly rose around her, Thor flexed his fists twice and left in the direction of the black SUV. The helmet was left behind him.

Jane and Darcy watched him leave.

'Come with us, Darcy.' Jane flew to her, taking her friend by the hand '_Please_. Away from here.'

Darcy stared at her in wonder, wind whipping her dark tresses over her white face 'If you think I will leave Loki alone, you are _tragically_ mistaken.'

Jane moved back, the flawless skin of her cheeks covered by her thin fingers. 'W-What can I even say to change your mind?'

Feeling as though Loki's arms were wrapped around her chest, squeezing the air out of her lungs, Darcy gave a shaky smile, fluttering all over 'Nothing.'

Her friend's breakdown was approaching - Jane hugged herself in pain that slowly became physical. She could not speak.

'We had an amazing time together, Jane.' Darcy placed her fingers over the side of her own bandaged neck 'And I will _never_ forget it – not you, not Erik, not this place.'

Wind blew harder. Jane let out a dry sob. Their friendship was like a ship, approaching the edge of the ocean, each second bringing it closer to the end. And Darcy was the one who was pushing it – an innocent vessel that had the potential of sailing for many years to come.

Darcy Lewis was in charge of this ship-wreck. She was the architect of this destruction. Darcy Lewis was ending this.

Everything was changing.

No more sleep-less nights on the Thinking Roof of the glass house, no more annoying pop songs or constant questions, no more laughter, no more inappropriate jokes.

Anger filled Jane together with sadness.

'_Why_ did you ever let him in this house? In your life!?'

Night fell completely.

'Don't judge me, Jane.' Darcy smiled through tears 'Please.'

'You are not yourself.'

Darcy looked to the starts that welled up over the black cope of heaven, a completely free laugh bursting forth 'I have never been more myself than I am now!'

'_Because of Loki?_'

With one tear falling out of her eye and into the sand beneath her feet, Darcy bended down to pick Loki's helmet Thor left in the sand. Holding it tightly in her arms, looking down at it, she whispered… 'It's this momentary thing, Jane. He… _had_ me the moment he looked at me.'

Silence. Darcy's glasses fogged as a fresh wave of tears arrived.

'And I will _run_ will him, _hide_ with him, _die_ with him.'

Despair shined from Jane's face, hurt and judgment she was unable to hide from her friend.

'Goodbye, Jane.' Darcy's voice shook badly as she took a step back, forcing herself to leave.

Darcy turned to leave, her legs quivering.

'_What about Erik!?_' Jane yelled behind her, her tone shrill and filled with tears.

Darcy never stopped walking away.

'_One day he will be caught!_'

Darcy urged herself to walk faster, hugging Loki's helmet tighter to her chest.

She felt cold.

'_Darcy Lewis, get back! He is a villain!_' Jane yelled, but never moved from her spot, for her voice grew quiet as Darcy moved farther away and closer to the glass house.

'Let me go, Jane.' Darcy said softly, pressing her lips and chin to the cold, horned helmet, whispering, her breath fogging the scratched gold.

'Let me go.'

…

The moment she burst inside the glass house, Loki was waiting for her. Darcy furiously wiped her cheeks, removing her tears, and took greedy gulps of air. Immediately, she leaned on the door, looking over her shoulder at the departing black vehicle. Relief filled her.

_Funny._ She thought. She heard that exact same sound of closing car doors months ago, while lying in her bed, staring in the ceiling, mere _hours_ before she found him in the desert. Back then, she was desperate for Jane to return. _Things have changed. _

He stood in the middle of the demolished living room, wearing a black t shirt and his own leather trousers. His hair was freshly washed, the wet, raven tresses framing his sharp features and falling around his long, pale neck.

He appeared so human.

'And?' He inquired simply in a low rumble.

Darcy was shaken out of her trance, still holding the helmet tightly '_What?_'

He crossed his lean arms over his wide chest, a small smirk in place 'What did they say?' He was so handsome.

She needed a moment. Loki looked at her, each new second stretching a wider smile on his charming face. Darcy stared back. Her wind-blown hair and wet lips making her the most beautiful creature he ever laid his eyes upon.

'Nothing.' She breathed out, shakily smiling.

Another wave of relief filled her to the brim. The room around her looked awful, her scars were still healing, but she began to feel it again… that familiar sensation of freedom. Throwing his helmet on the creamy sofa, she approached him '_Absolutely nothing._'

Nothing mattered to Darcy anymore. Just him and the wrenching, heart-shaking revelation of what he was prepared, capable and ready to do for her.

_I love you. _Darcy thought about it again. _I love you._

Without another word, Darcy reached him. Looking up at his tall person, at his beauty and his darkness, she stood on her tip-toes, placing her palms gently over his forearms to retain balance. Meeting his ragged breaths, she covered his widely smiling lips with her own.

The kiss they shared was tender, long and deep. In one moment, as though asking for her permission, Loki slid his left arm around her waist, bringing her nearer, while reaching with his right hand towards the back of her neck, cradling it gently.

They separated for one second; eager lips just a breath away. Pushing her body closer to him with a pressure on the small of her back, Loki whispered 'Make love to me, Darcy.'

Her breath caught in the middle of her burning throat.

'_Make love to me tonight._'

Such painfully long hours, days and months of separation suddenly fell upon them like an avalanche.

'_Yes._' She breathed back. A willing, longing answer that came from the innermost point of her soul.

Her knees felt wobbly as their lips joined once more, hot and permanent like a metal seal pressed into scorching, dripping wax. Her soul longed to join with his frozen one, as well as her body. He felt her need, for it radiated off of her in waves of sighs, shaking lips and barely withheld whimpers.

Smiling in such a bittersweet manner, he lifted her into his arms, carrying her without a word over the thrown books, papers, debris and dust, swiftly and decisively in the direction of the bed.

The utter liberation and passion tangling together in a twisted dance felt indescribable.

Clothes flew left and right, followed by fluttering feminine moans and guttural grunts.

Skin strained, muscles tightened, limbs intertwined.

Flesh pressed closer - pale skin to pale skin. Intense scent of love-making filled the room as she arched underneath his unspoken strength. _Finally._

Mischief flew like a dark bird out of him, shadowy laughter and love he felt for her twirling her in his unique dance until she froze like an icicle and burst into a million pieces against him. _Finally._

_Finally._

**AN: The song is IAMX - Kingdom Of Welcome Addiction. Give it a listen! It's amazing! PLEASE REVIEW!**


	38. Chapter 38

**AN: MY DARLINGS. I apologize for being away for so long. I had a lot going on with uni and then I went to Rome for a while. I wanted to thank you for all your support and I hope you'll enjoy this one :) Two more chapters to go, lovelies... Then we must say goodbye to Ink and Parchment :'I **

**For those of you who asked me why Darcy's eyes are brown, and not blue... I WILL explain why in the next AN, because now I would rather leave you to read the chapter. Same goes for all other questions you asked me (most of you curious lovelies are anon reviewers, so I could not PM you back) They WILL be answered!**

**Also... I know most of you skip this part of the chapter (author's note), but I am asking you nicely - PLEASE read it, especially in the next two final updates for which, I promise, you won't wait as long as you did for this one.**

**While I wrote this I listened to: Hans Zimmer & Lisa Gerrard - Sorrow (type to youtube).**

**Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Marvel.**

* * *

Chapter 38

_Drink up baby, look at the stars,_

_I'll kiss you again between the bars,_

_Where I'm seeing you there with your hands in the air,_

_Waiting to finally be caught._

_Drink up one more time and I'll make you mine,_

_Keep you apart, deep in my heart,_

_Separate from the rest, where I like you the best,_

_And keep the things you forgot._

_The people you've been before,_

_That you don't want around anymore,_

_That push and shove and won't bend to your will,_

_I'll keep them still._

* * *

'Are they any different?'

Darcy's soft voice broke the still air of her room, forcing warmth to spread over Loki's body. Strange warmth, welcomed warmth, rare warmth.

The large window was wide open, letting in the fresh night air and presenting the lying couple with a view of the everlasting night. Darkness stretched endlessly, allowing the universe to paint upon its blackness as it pleased.

'They?' Loki asked her, unsure of what she meant. Cold wind reached them, brushing against their bodies, stripped of clothes or any other barriers. She lay on her side, pressed to him completely as he stretched his long arm under her and pulled her into his embrace. Her head rested on his chest.

'Stars.' Darcy answered. Once she felt his long fingers drawing slow lines across her spine, she closed her eyes and inquired again 'Are they any different when you look up from your room in Asgard?'

The god of lies fell silent, still dragging his hand tenderly over her skin, looking up at the sky. He pressed her even more against his wide chest, not even allowing air to come between them.

'Yes.' He finally answered.

'How?' Darcy asked once more, this time with a smile.

'They seem closer on Asgard.' Loki's deep voice filled the room, 'The sky appears to be bursting from the untold amounts of constellations. Colors are blinding and it _never_ looks the same. Every second it shifts, changes, floats, becomes different.' He paused 'It's… beautiful.'

Forcing her eyelids not to flutter and close from the sleepiness that arrived so suddenly with his soothing voice, Darcy asked him 'Do you miss it?'

Loki gave a small smirk, uncovering the shadow that still plagued him '_No._'

She observed his handsome, sharp profile. It glinted in the moonlight just like on the night she drove his broken body to the very house they now occupied.

'Will I ever see it?'

This question made him raise his head from the pillow. Loki turned his head and regarded her with a frown. His crystal clear green eyes narrowed; muscles that connected the base of his long neck and his shoulders _tightened_.

Darcy gave a small smile, laying her head down on a pillow just as his entire torso suddenly moved, and towered over her uncovered form. He shifted over her, pinning her with his body. Each strong arm that now pressed into the mattress on each side of her looked like a strong pillar.

He stared at her. Unblinking. At her smiling pale face that spoke of her contentment, dark locks scattered over white pillows… and her neck. Elegant, pale, no longer covered with gauze. Now it was adorned with a scar on the left side. Her smell that suddenly reached him reminded him of what happened only hours ago.

…

_His breathing was hard and ragged, lips insatiable, mind thirsty. Loki peeled the last garment that separated her flesh from his and threw it to the ground behind him with a passionate growl. The door to the room was open, the abandoned trail of their clothes stretched from the living room, across the hall and to the threshold of Darcy's room. Oh, how they took one another. _

_Suddenly, Darcy yelped and held her neck with her palm, her eyes watering. Loki saw it. Not saying a word, he took a gentle hold on her wrist and removed it from her neck. Using his other hand to brush away her dark hair, Loki removed the bandage and blew an icy breath over it, his magic making her torn flesh heal completely. With a sigh of relief, she melted in his powerful arms, making him tighten his hold on her, pressing her into his freezing torso. _

_His lips found her neck, and kissed the fresh scar, dragging them gently to her jawline and across her cheeks._

…

Looking up at his pale face, graced with a wild expression, staring at his wide shoulders and marble-like chest, Darcy smiled even wider, thinking about how she could die like this, shielded by the man she loved more than life itself. She could perish in that moment without a single protest.

Shadows swirled on the ceiling above them, creating a background for this vision of a god that towered over her. The dark shadows moved on the walls, reminding Darcy of snakes. Undulating, silent serpents, biting their own tail as a sign of infinity she already shared with Loki.

He still stared at her, not answering the question.

Suddenly, the arms that held him propped above her smaller body slid to Darcy's relaxed hands, and joining their palms, Loki intertwined their fingers.

'Will you answer my question?' she whispered gently, staring at his lips.

'What was the question?' Loki leaned down like he was about the kiss her for the millionth time that night, but stopped, cold lips hovering over warm ones, still not touching them.

Then he spoke. Darcy closed her eyes when his chilly breath caressed the pale skin of her face.

'When you gaze upon the stars from the ground of Realm Eternal, Darcy… it is so incredibly beautiful, it is heart-stopping… But I prefer _this_.' His words were nothing more than a raspy breath meant only for her ears.

'This?' She breathed.

Loki gave a small smirk, caressing the side of her face gently with his knuckles 'I prefer Midgardian stars.'

Darcy felt her heart might burst in that moment. Blood boiled beneath her skin, her hands shaking.

Loki continued 'In this moment, when you are gazing upon them, they are eternal; they carry the unspoken beauty Asgardian stars can only _dream_ of having.' He tucked a lost piece of her dark hair behind her ear, a drop of sadness welled up on his handsome face 'But any second could be their dying moment. Any second, they could fall, and cease to exist. They are evanescent and brief. And _that_ is where their true beauty lies.'

Begging her pulse to calm down, Darcy swallowed the emotions that threatened to burst out of their prison.

As if in a fever, she took a shaky hold onto his face, and, arching her torso against him, she kissed him.

Tucking his long arms underneath her, he pulled her even more into him, engulfing her in a desperate hug, making her hook her legs around his hips. After a few moments, he chuckled in her hair when they both realized she looked like a clumsy panda, hanging comically from him.

Once again, they lay next to one another, only looking at each other in silence on their sides.

Once again, their fingers intertwined.

Once again, they breathed together.

The sheets were dirty, but warm.

The air was chilly, but comfortable.

They needed nothing.

They needed no one.

Loki observed as she relaxed, breathing evenly, closing her eyes. Letting go of one of her hands, he took the back of her head tenderly, and pressed his lips to her forehead.

He stopped asking himself questions, stopped wondering and marveling at the millionth act of gentleness he bestowed upon a… mere mortal.

A chuckle almost escaped him.

Darcy was no longer a mortal to him.

He too closed his eyes, letting his thoughts wander, letting relief spread across his body, letting his mind roam the white fields of Valhalla her presence created with the power of her perfume, the softness of her body and the knowledge she was once again his and his alone. Protected, safe and sound.

The bed beneath him slowly slipped. Just as he was about to fall down into the realm of dreams, where even _he_, with all his powers was feeble, something kept him up on the firm ground of reality.

He felt Darcy's palm on his cheek. He opened his eyes.

The expression that knitted her eyebrows so suddenly, changing it from the earlier content and tranquility to uncertainty and fear… it left Loki wondering.

Something hard fell upon her… that much he could see.

He needn't ask her, for her lips parted, and she pushed out the thought that plagued for so long.

'Loki…' Darcy started carefully, bowing her head down to stare at the sheets 'There is something I wanted to ask you… since we met.'

As though sensing the look he gave her, that almost commanded _Look at me, _she raised her head and faced him. Many emotions swirled in her dark gaze. Funnily enough… fear was the most prominent one.

'What happened to Baldr?'

Loki felt as though someone took a freshly minted sword and pushed it excruciatingly slowly underneath his Adam's apple. His pupils dilated, his breath fell short.

The old wound was opened up.

As bare as he was before her in that second, Loki tried to hide the pain that rose inside him. He smiled, lifting his eyebrows and hiding the pain. Slowly shifting so he was more comfortable next to her, Loki spoke.

His voice was hard and felt as if he swallowed a rock 'Why do you want to know?'

Darcy's gaze fell from his face to his neck. Worry filled her. She was afraid he will run from her after this.

'I don't know…' She whispered, returning her eyes bravely to his green ones that in those moments burned with flames of the ancient past '… it's just… you never told me.'

'I never told anyone.' He said quickly as the corner of his mouth lifted.

They stared at each other for a few seconds in silence.

'I understand if you don't want to…' She broke the heaviness, smiling a bit, even though there was nothing funny.

'I never said that I don't want to.' He cut in, giving her a side-glance, untangling his fingers from her own, and sitting up.

Darcy followed him, reluctantly wrapping the white sheet around her nude body. For a few moments, she stared at the back of his head and the messy black tresses that fell around his shoulders.

Loki sat on the edge of the bed, not facing her. Without a blink, she observed as his back rose and fell with the deep breaths he took.

The mortal woman's heart ached at the thought of how he must feel. Sadness filled her to the brim. Without a word, Darcy crawled on her knees and wrapped her arms around him, resting her cheek between his shoulder-blades.

Loki swallowed a shaking breath, covering her gentle forearms with his large palms, caressing them.

He trusted her… with each fiber of his being – Loki trusted Darcy. But he couldn't let her see his face. Not now.

So he covered her arms with his, soaking in the gentleness she gave him, the love he was deprived of for many frighteningly long centuries.

He leaned his head back, and started the story.

Darcy never moved from the position she was in, listening intently to both his heartbeat and the words he was about to say.

She understood he didn't want to look at her. She understood everything. And so… she simply listened, trying to let him know she was here no matter what he confessed to her, no matter what she read about him in the past, no matter what the history said, no matter what kismet ordered.

Darcy Lewis decided to trust him. _Him_. The god of lies.

The dark ages of his life poured out before both of them as Loki finally lifted the dusty curtain, and revealed what truly happened the day _suffering_ was born.

'I knew it was unwise to take the other passage to the Mountain of Mist…' Loki started, trying to control his shaking voice '…but Baldr was such a curios boy. So unafraid, so unaware… so young.'

Darcy breathed with him.

…

'_Loki! Come, let us race home!' Thor yelled 'Who gets there last has to raise a false alarm the Frost giants are attacking!' His smiling, boyish face was damp from running and riding. Blond tresses stuck to his temples, his already deeper voice echoing from a great height, down the sharp mountain slopes, across trees hugged by thick mist and up to the razor-sharp peak of the mountain. Thor's horse suddenly grew restless; the poor, white animal's hooves shook and trembled on the narrow paths that swirled around the rocky mountain like poison ivy around the trunk of a tree. _

…

'It was late, and we were already supposed to be on our way home.' Darcy could feel him smiling, albeit sadly 'I knew mother must have been raging because of our tardiness, as per usual.'

…

_Loki laughed at his brother's expression when the horse jumped, scaring Thor together with the air of bravado that surrounded him. Another laugh joined in, coming from a boy seated on a brown horse, between mischief and thunder. The youngest of the three. The wildest of the three. The road before them split into two. 'Yes, I suppose we should. Mother will skin us alive if we don't depart now.' Loki commented lightly, steering his black horse in the right direction, the right path, the safe path and the one they and everyone else always took. _Never_ the left one._

…

'It was a ludicrous wish… one that I should have denied immediately.' He paused, dragging in a beaten breath as Darcy's arms tightened around his middle 'We were too young to be there, Darcy. Too stupid.'

…

'_We cannot go now!' The dark-blond boy protested with a frown 'Loki, you promised!'_

_Loki smiled at his younger brother, shaking his head lightly. Thor interrupted, chuckling 'I can't believe you promised to take him to the Left road.'_

'_I never _promised_…' Loki said with a smile 'I just told him about what you and I did when I was his age.'_

'_You took him to see the Abyss!?' Baldr yelped excitedly. The soft hair upon his head whipped as a gush of wind blew around them._

'_There is nothing to see there, Bal.' Thor said with a sigh._

'_And yet you and Loki went there! Why should _I_ not be allowed to go, too!?'_

…

'After those words, Thor didn't protest. And I… I wanted to tell him he was not old enough to go to that side of the mountain…' Loki now clutched Darcy's forearms with his fists. He felt her dragging in a sharp breath '… but the decision has already been made. Like our parents, Thor and I always wanted to grant Baldr's every wish, with him being the youngest…'

…

_Turning to the right path of the breaking road, Thor's horse galloped faster as Thor yelled over his shoulder 'I will wait for you at the foot of the mountain. Baldr, Loki will show you the Abyss and that is it.' His tone was commanding. Before he disappeared behind a rock, Thor winked at Baldrs excited face and left, oblivious to the cruel truth - he will never see him again._

…

For a few moments, Loki fell silent. He bowed down his head, as if in defeat, hunching, shattered and so frighteningly quiet. Darcy untangled her arms from around him, and securing the sheet around her body more firmly, she got off the bed, and to her knees before him. Loki placed his palms over his face, leaning his elbows onto his knees. She could only hear his ragged breathing until he spoke again, this time through his teeth 'We got off our horses and he... ran so fast. I told him to be careful. I shouted. H-he slipped.'

…

_'Brother!' The boy shouted in terror 'Loki! PLEASE DON'T LET ME GO!' The wind was unbearable, the unspoken depth of the black fall beneath Baldrs slipping hand so excruciatingly dark, Loki could not even look at it. The Abyss. The only known place on Asgard where even gods were mortal. An endless, shadowy, ineffable chasm. _

_'I WON'T LET YOU FALL, BAL! HOLD ON! THOR IS COMING!' Loki was lying on the rocky edge, holding his brothers smaller palm with his own, and holding himself up with another. A storm unlike any other shook his chest, fire burned his throat as Loki lied to Baldr, telling him comforting lies for he knew they stood no chance. His magic was cut form him, terror froze him - Loki was so young. His powers were just starting to grow. He was afraid. Loki screamed Thor's name… But he was too far away to hear them._

_'Loki! I'm slipping!' Baldr screamed in panic and agony. Loki gritted his teeth and tried pulling him up. The sharp edge upon which Loki was holding both himself and Baldr, holding onto it for dear life was damp. His little brother's hand was sweaty. The air was humid. Everything was slipping from him. His reason, his emotions, his little brother… and with him, his freedom._

_Before he could breathe, there was lightness. Nothing was pulling Loki down anymore. He was weightless. So unbearably light._

_'BALDR! NO! ' _

_If only his broken screams could grow strong arms, a rope, a stairway to the bottom of the pit, a pair of wings… anything to return his baby brother to him. If only they could turn back time. If only..._

…

The air in Darcy's room seemed to be trembling with Loki's power, triggered by the wild emotion he successfully bottled up for such a long time.

'I should have held his hand tighter, Darcy. I should have n-never let go of him.'

Tears were sliding down Darcy's cheeks in soundless torrents of empathy and sorrow.

Shock filled her when she thought she heard a desperate, slightly mad chuckle coming from behind his palms. She pressed her palms onto his knees, begging him to look at her.

'And then… the same happened to me. Thor held me tight enough from the edge of the Bifröst. I _should_ have held on tighter. But I didn't. I too fell, Darcy. Just like Bal. From the safe grip of Thor's hand, past the borders of mind and reason.'

More pain broke like fragile glass over her visage the moment the god of lies raised his head, ungluing it from the comfortable darkness of his palms, and faced her.

Shadows moved inside his emerald gaze, centuries old terror and loss. All of it leaked out with black tears, sliding down his sharp cheekbones. She thought her lungs would explode the moment she saw his bottom lip tremble. His hands curled into tight fists, trembling. Immediately, Darcy placed her warm palms onto his cold knuckles, leaning even closer to him, trying to banish the demons that flocked him like crows.

Before she could inhale, Loki wound his arms desperately around her, making Darcy crawl even closer. The gesture was so devastated, so broken and so unlike him. He shook like a branch.

The breaking earthquake of his confession, the words Loki spoke out loud for the first time in his life since the event on the Mountain of Mist… It was bound to throw him on the ground, to break him, but most importantly - to turn a god, even for a short while, into a creature as vulnerable, breakable and brittle as a human.

The god pushed his face into the crook of her neck. She hugged him to her breast, holding him as he slowly fell apart. She hugged him around his wide shoulders, feeling the trembling of his strong back, feeling the freezing tears that dripped onto her neck.

'I lost who I a-am, Darcy.' He hissed brokenly into her hair, clawing at her back 'I l-lost-'

'I know. I know.' She whispered, rubbing his back, caressing the back of his neck in soothing circles 'I'm so sorry, Loki. I am so, _so_ sorry.'

The slow words traveled between them like a gentle mantra.

She cried with him, in silence of her room, changed for a lifetime. Darcy Lewis felt _something_ unmade her to the point she could let go of every single thing she believed in before she met him… even more than the incident from four months ago. _This_ changed her. It rearranged the pieces in her head, burning each doubt, each prejudice, each preconception and fear. The blank canvas of her mind was stretched anew - ready for her to paint upon it more carefully this time.

Funnily enough, Darcy Lewis didn't feel powerful or amazed by her current position. Not for _one_ second did she feel like she was anything more than what she really was - a mortal giving comfort to a god who has fallen. Fallen for the second time since she met him.

Humble and in love - that's what she was, Darcy Lewis. A student. A regular girl. A little speck of light in a large cosmos, a little grain of sand in the hourglass of her own time. And yet, in these moments, under these stars, for a certain god of mischief, she was so much more.

**AN: The song from the beginning is Between the bars - Elliott Smith. PLEASE REVIEW! I genuinely hope we can reach 1k reviews by the end of this story! :D**


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